LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Look here,” piped the little voice. Scorio jerked his head around and looked.

      The chair was in Manning’s hand. A tiny chair, but the very one that had disappeared from the room a moment before.

      “Watch out!” warned Manning, and heaved the chair. The tiny chair seemed to float in the air. Then with a rush it gathered speed, grew larger. In a split second it was a full-sized chair and it was hurtling straight at the gangster’s head.

      With a strangled cry Scorio threw up his arms. The chair crashed into him, bowled him over.

      “Now do you believe me?” demanded Manning.

      Scrambling to his feet, Scorio gibbered madly, for the six-inch figure was growing. He became as large as the average man, and then much larger. His head cleared the high ceiling by scant inches. His mighty hands reached out for the gangster.

      Scorio scuttled away on hands and knees, yelping with terror.

      Powerful hands seemed to seize and lift him. The room was blotted out. The Earth was gone. He was in a place where there was nothing. No light, no heat, no gravitation. For one searing, blasting second he seemed to be floating in strangely suspended animation. Then with a jolt he became aware of new surroundings.

      He blinked his eyes and looked around. He was in a great laboratory that hummed faintly with the suggestion of terrific power, that smelled of ozone and seemed filled with gigantic apparatus.

      Two men stood in front of him.

      He staggered back.

      “Manning!” he gasped.

      Manning grinned savagely at him. “Sit down, Scorio. You won’t have long to wait. Your boys will be along any minute now.”

      *

      Chizzy crouched over the controls, his eyes on the navigation chart. Only the thin screech of parted air disturbed the silence of the ship. The high scream and the slow, precise snack-snack of cards as Reg and Max played a game of double solitaire with a cold, emotionless precision.

      The plane was near the stratosphere, well off the traveled air lanes. It was running without lights, but the cabin bulbs were on, carefully shielded.

      Pete sat in the co-pilot’s chair beside Chizzy. His blank, expressionless eyes stared straight ahead.

      “I don’t like this job,” he complained.

      “Why not?” asked Chizzy.

      “Page and Manning aren’t the kind of guys a fellow had ought to be fooling around with. They ain’t just chumps. You fool with characters like them and you got trouble.”

      Chizzy growled at him disgustedly, bent to his controls.

      Straight ahead was a thin sliver of a dying Moon that gave barely enough illumination to make out the great, rugged blocks of the mountains, like dark, shadowy brush-strokes on a newly started canvas.

      Pete shuddered. There was something about the thin, watery moonlight, and those brush-stroke hills....

      “It seems funny up here,” he said.

      “Hell,” growled Chizzy, “you’re going soft in your old age.”

      Silence fell between the two. The snack-snack of the cards continued.

      “You ain’t got nothing to be afraid of,” Chizzy told Pete. “This tub is the safest place in the world. She’s overpowered a dozen times. She can outfly anything in the air. She’s rayproof and bulletproof and bombproof. Nothing can hurt us.”

      But Pete wasn’t listening. “That moonlight makes a man see things. Funny things. Like pictures in the night.”

      “You’re balmy,” declared Chizzy.

      Pete started out of his seat. His voice gurgled in his throat. He pointed with a shaking finger out into the night.

      “Look!” he yelled “Look!”

      Chizzy rose out of his seat ... and froze in sudden terror.

      Straight ahead of the ship, etched in silvery moon-lines against the background of the star-sprinkled sky, was a grim and terrible face.

      It was as big and hard as a mountain.

      Chapter Thirteen

      The ship was silent now. Even the whisper of the cards had stopped. Reg and Max were on their feet, startled by the cries of Pete and Chizzy.

      “It’s Manning!” shrieked Pete. “He’s watching us!”

      Chizzy’s hand whipped out like a striking snake toward the controls and, as he grasped them, his face went deathly white. For the controls were locked! They resisted all the strength he threw against them and the ship still bore on toward that mocking face that hung above the Earth.

      “Do something!” screamed Max. “You damn fool, do something!”

      “I can’t,” moaned Chizzy. “The ship is out of control.”

      It seemed impossible. That ship was fast and tricky and it had reserve power far beyond any possible need. It handled like a dream ... it was tops in aircraft. But there was no doubt that some force more powerful than the engines and controls of the ship itself had taken over.

      “Manning’s got us!” squealed Pete. “We came out to get him and now he has us instead!”

      The craft was gaining speed. The whining shriek of the air against its plates grew thinner and higher. Listening, one could almost feel and hear the sucking of the mighty power that pulled it at an ever greater pace through the tenuous atmosphere.

      The face was gone from the sky now. Only the Moon remained, the Moon and the brush-stroke mountains far below.

      Then, suddenly, the speed was slowing and the ship glided downward, down into the saw-teeth of the mountains.

      “We’re falling!” yelled Max, and Chizzy growled at him.

      But they weren’t falling. The ship leveled off and floated, suspended above a sprawling laboratory upon a mountain top.

      “That’s Manning’s laboratory,” whispered Pete in terror-stricken tones.

      The levers yielded unexpectedly. Chizzy flung the power control over, drove the power of the accumulator bank, all the reserve, into the engines. The ship lurched, but did not move. The engines whined and screamed in torture. The cabin’s interior was filled with a blast of heat, the choking odor of smoke and hot rubber. The heavy girders of the frame creaked under the mighty forward thrust of the engines ... but the ship stood still, frozen above that laboratory in the hills.

      Chizzy, hauling back the lever, turned around, pale. His hand began clawing for his heat gun. Then he staggered back. For there were only two men in the cabin with him—Reg and Max. Pete had gone!

      “He just disappeared,” Max jabbered. “He was standing there in front of us. Then all at once he seemed to fade, as if he was turning into smoke. Then he was gone.”

      *

      Something had descended about Pete. There was no sound, no light, no heat. He had no sense of weight. It was as if, suddenly, his mind had become disembodied.

      Seeing and hearing and awareness came back to him as one might turn on a light. From the blackness and the eventless existence of a split second before, he was catapulted into a world of light and sound.

      It was a world that hummed with power, that was ablaze with light, a laboratory that seemed crammed with mighty banks of massive machinery, lighted by great globes of creamy brightness, shedding an illumination white as sunlight, yet shadowless as the light of a cloudy day.

      Two men stood in front of him, looking at him, one with a faint smile on his lips, the other with lines of fear etched across his face. The

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