waiting button that would broadcast death throughout the world.
He seized Aña's little hand and cried out: "Run, Aña! The only safe place now is Aimu's laboratory. Run!"
AS they dashed on madly, Hale opened wide his nostrils to scent the heavy, flower-laden air of the jungle. Any moment all this sweet, rich life might vanish instantly. He had a horrible vision of a world devoid of life, a world of bare rocks, dry sand, odorless, dead waters. For it was life that greened the landscape, roughened the stones with moss and lichen, thickened the ocean with ooze, and turned the dry sand into loam—life that swarmed underfoot, overhead, all around!
And now, just as they reached the laboratory door, panting and frantic, a hoarse shriek broke forth. Dragging Aña after him, Hale dashed forward, conscious of two masculine voices raised in passion.
The door to the room where the life-machine performed its vile work was locked. Hale pounded against it and called out to Sir Basil, but only curses and the sound of tumbling bodies came from beyond the door. Although originally the door had been thick and strong, the destructive forces of the tropics had pitted and rotted the wood. A few blows of Hale's shoulder broke it down.
Under the brilliant electric light, Sir Basil and Unani Assu were fighting upon the blood-spattered floor. The struggle was uneven: the scientist's emaciated body was no match for the splendid strength of the young Indian.
"Help Aimu!" cried Aña, pushing Hale forward.
Aimu was being choked to death.
Hale acted fantastically but efficiently. Catching up a bottle of ammonia, he moistened a handkerchief and clapped it against Unani Assu's nose. Instantly the Indian choked, released Sir Basil, and fell back, gasping for breath.
Hale thrust the handkerchief into his pocket.
"Get out!" he ordered Unani Assu. "Quick!" He threatened him with the ammonia bottle.
But Unani Assu was not looking at the bottle. "Aimu!" he screamed, pointing.
WHEN Hale saw and understood, he leaped across the room to plant his body in front of Aña; for Sir Basil was behind the life-machine, reaching for the controls of the ray projector.
Suddenly, from behind Hale, a silver streak shot across the room. Sir Basil groaned and sank to the floor of the laboratory.
A keen-bladed dissecting knife, thrown by Aña, stuck out from his left breast.
Aña ran forward, sobbing wildly. "Oh, Aimu! I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to strike you there. Only your hand, Aimu! I didn't want Hale to die, Aimu. I didn't—oh!"
She was on her knees by the scientist's side, his head held in her slender arms.
"He's breathing!" she rejoiced. "Some masata, Hale, quick!"
Hale found a bottle of good brandy which he had contributed from his own supplies. Soon Sir Basil gasped and opened his eyes. He stared about him wildly, then gasped:
"I'm dying, Hale Oakham! Quick, the life-machine, before my mind-electron escapes."
He tried to pull his body up, but fell back, weak and panting.
Hale hesitated, looking doubtfully at Aña.
"For God's sake, quick!" screamed Sir Basil. "I'm dying, I say! I must have—rebirth. Lift me to the disintegrator. Hurry!..." His voice trailed off faintly.
"He is dying," snapped Hale. "We might as well try it." He jerked open the door to the disintegrator. "Here, Unani Assu! Lend a hand!"
