“Your words and your manner are insolent,” asserted Dirk angrily, “and I warn you now to cease making yourself offensive.”
“Dog!” exclaimed Zitlan fiercely, leveling the metal tube, “I’ll––”
But the left fist of Dirk cut short his threat as it made a sudden impact with his chin, and the Lodorian went crashing backward into some exotic shrubbery with a look of surprise on his countenance.
Then Dirk heard an odd hissing and crackling sound, and he felt himself becoming dizzy and weak.
Darkness seemed to sweep in upon him; he felt that he was dropping swiftly through space, and then he lost consciousness.
A vague and shadowy figure was standing close by his side and peering down into his face. After a while he realized that it was Steinholt.
“Steinholt!” he gasped. “Why––why am I here––in Fragoni’s? I must have had a dream––and yet....”
He furrowed his brow in thought and, gradually, he commenced to remember what had happened.
“It was no dream,” said the scientist softly. “Do you remember the trouble that you had with Zitlan?”