"Which?" asked Sherman.
"Eeny-meeny," said Marta—"this one," and stepping boldly to the right hand door, pushed it open....
For a moment they could only gaze. The room they had entered was another and smaller blue-domed hall. Around its sides was a row of curious twisted benches of green material, each of which was now occupied by one of the Lassans, hood thrown back from head, and elephant-trunk thrust into a large pool of some viscous, green stuff with bright yellow flecks in it, in the center of the circle. Half a dozen helmeted ape-men stood behind the benches of their masters, apparently serving them at this singular meal.
Half a dozen ape-men stood behind the benches of their masters apparently serving at this singular meal.
As the two humans entered there was one of those silences which are pregnant with events. Then:
"Good evening, folks. How's the boy?" said Marta, and curtsied gracefully.
The sound of her words seemed to release the spell. With a bellow of rage the nearest Lassan leaped from his bench, fumbling at one of the pouches in his cloak. "The light-gun!" thought Sherman and braced himself to spring, but another of the masters extended his trunk and detained the first one. There was a momentary babble of rumbling conversation, then one of the Lassans reached behind him, picked up a helmet and placed it on his head, and attaching a tube to one of the ape-men, rose.