Molo was saying: "But you are the fool to have dared to come here!"
"The master knows that there is danger. Something is wrong." The hooded stranger spoke like a foreigner, but not a Martian, nor an Earthman, and not like any person of Venus I had ever heard. It was a strange, indescribable intonation, a flat, hollow voice.
"I say the master is concerned."
"Let him be."
"And he demanded I bring him here to find you. He is displeased that you are here."
What gruesome thing was this? Their glances seemed to go to the box on the floor at their feet, as though the master were in there. But the lid of the box did not rise.
"Well, you have found me," Molo declared impatiently. "When you know me better, always you will find I have my wits. The thing is for tomorrow night, not tonight."
"But that, my master is not sure." The hollow voice was deferential but insistent. "He fears danger; something has gone wrong. He is working on it now, striving to receive the message! There is a message. He knows that much. Perhaps from our world, Wandl, itself."
For a moment Molo had no answer. His sister had not spoken. I noticed that her gaze seemed roving the room.
"What is it I should do?" Molo asked at last.