A servant appeared from among the shrubbery and paused before Dirk.
“There is a call for you, Mr. Vanderpool,” he said respectfully.
Dirk excused himself and, entering the sumptuous apartment that opened from the terrace, went to the televisor. He saw the face of Sears, the chief secretary of Fragoni, in the glass panel.
“There will be a meeting of the council at nine o’clock in the morning, Mr. Vanderpool,” came the voice over the wire.
“Thank you, Sears,” replied Dirk. “It happens that Stanton is here at the present time. Shall I notify him of the conclave?”
“If you will, please,” Sears responded. “By the way, Mr. Vanderpool, is there anything wrong at your apartment? I tried to call you there before I located you here and I failed to get any response.”
“I guess that all of my servants have run out from under cover because of their fear of that thing in the sky,” Dirk responded. “Do you know anything about it, Sears?” he asked.
“It will be discussed at the meeting to-morrow morning,” replied Sears shortly. “Good night, Mr. Vanderpool.”
Dirk, upon returning to the terrace, saw that both Stanton and Inga were silently and fearfully looking up into the night.