"Their tunnel was already there, when the meteor fell," finished Professor Prescott. "But can it be possible such creatures could have produced that rocket?"
"I'm inclined to think anything is possible, now! But I'm sorry I dragged you into this, Professor. I—"
"Forget it! We're here and we'll face it together, whatever it is."
"You're a game sport!" Stoddard gripped the older man's hand. "We'll face it—and lick it!"
Further talk was interrupted by a stir among their captors. The ranks parted—and into that dazzling chamber stepped a tall, bearded personage whose aristocratic features and haughty bearing suggested a Russian of the old regime.
e strode toward them, smiling sardonically.
"Greetings, my friends! Nice of you to drop in on me while in the neighborhood." His English was suave, precise. "Professor Norman Prescott, leader of the American Kinchinjunga expedition, I believe." He paused and lifted inquiring eyebrows to his other guest. "And—?"
"Dr. John Stoddard, our geologist," came the answer stiffly. "And you, sir?"