We pointed at the unconscious man. “Someone was here,” I said hastily. “Experimenting with the magnetic switches. Evidently unfamiliar with them––pulling one or another to test their workings and so see the reactions on the dials.”
We told him what had happened to Snap in the upper corridor.
Dr. Frank revived the guard in a moment. He was no worse off for the episode, save a lump on his head, and a nasty headache.
But he had little to tell us. He had heard a step. Saw nothing––and then had been struck on the head, by some invisible assailant.
We left him nursing his head, sitting belligerent at his post. Armed now with my heat-ray cylinder which I loaned him.
“Strange doings this voyage,” he told us. “All the crew knows it––all been talkin’ about it. I stick it out now, but when we get back home I’m done with this star travelin’. I belong on the sea anyway. A good old freighter is all right for me.”
We hurried back to the upper level. We would indeed have to plan something at this chart-room conference. This was the first tangible attack our adversaries had made.
We were on the passenger deck headed for the chart-room when all three of us stopped short, frozen with horror. Through the silent passenger quarters a scream rang out! A girl’s shuddering, gasping scream. Terror in it. Horror. Or a scream of agony. In the silence of the dully vibrating ship it was utterly horrible. It lasted an instant––a single long scream; then was abruptly stilled.
And with blood pounding my temples and rushing like ice through my veins, I recognized it.