"An exceedingly queer lot," Professor Sykes observed. "And this chap seems distinctly hostile."
"He's no friend of mine," said McGuire as the thin, pendulous lips repeated their whistling interrogation.
"I can't place them," mused the scientist. "Those facial characteristics.... But they must be of some nationality, speak some tongue."
He addressed himself to the figure with the immobile, horrid face.
"We do not understand you," he said with an ingratiating smile. "Comprenez vous Francaise?... Non?"... German, perhaps, or Spanish?... "Sprecken sie Deutsche? Usted habla Española?..."
He followed with a fusillade of questions in strange and varying tongues. "I've even tried him with Chinese," he protested in bewilderment and stared amazed at his companion's laughter.
There had to be a reaction from the strain of the past hours, and Lieutenant McGuire found the serious questioning in polyglot tongues and the unchanging feline stare of that hideous face too much for his mental restraint. He held his sides, while he shook and roared with laughter beyond control, and the figure before him glared with evident disapproval of his mirth.
here was a hissing order, and two figures from the corner sprang forward to seize the flyer with long clinging fingers. Their strength he had overestimated, for a violent throw of his body twisted him free, and his outstretched hands sent the two sprawling across the room. Their leader took one quick step forward, then paused as if hesitating to meet this young adversary.