Chapter 3: The Fight in the Shrinking Dome Room

It seemed that Alan was stirring. I felt the tiny hand leave my ear. I thought that I could hear faint little footfalls as the girl scampered away, fearful that a sudden movement from Alan would crush her. I turned cautiously after a moment and saw Alan’s eyes upon me. He too had seen, with a blurred returning consciousness, the dwindling figures of Babs and Polter. I followed his gaze. The white slab with the golden quartz under the microscope seemed empty of human movement. The several men in this huge circular dome-room were dispersing to their affairs: three of them sat whispering by what I now saw was a pile of gold ingots stacked crosswise. But the fellow at the microscope held his place, his eye glued to its aperture as he watched the vanishing figures of Polter and Babs on the rock-fragment.

Alan seemed trying to convey something to me, He could only gaze and jerk his head. I saw behind his head the figure of the tiny girl on the floor behind him. She wanted evidently to approach his head but did not dare. When for an instant he was quiet, she ran forward, but at once scampered back.

From the group by the ingots, one of the men rose and came toward us. Alan held still, watching. And the girl, Glora, seized the opportunity to come nearer. We both heard her tiny voice:

“Do not move! Close your eyes! Make him think you are still unconscious.”

Then she was gone, like a mouse hiding in the shadows near us.

Amazement swept Alan’s face; he twisted, mouthed at his gag. But he saw my eager nod and took his cue from me.

I closed my eyes and lay stiff, breathing slowly. Footsteps approached. A man bent over Alan and me.

“Are you no conscious yet?” It was the voice of a foreigner, with a queer, indescribable intonation. A foot prodded us. “Wake up!”

Then the footsteps retreated, and when I dared to look the man was rejoining his fellows. It was a strange-looking trio. They were heavy-set men in leather jackets and short, wide knee-length trousers. One wore tight, high boots, and the others a sort of white buskin, with ankle straps. All were bareheaded--round, bullet heads of close-dipped black hair.

I suddenly had another startling realization. These men were not of normal size as I had assumed! They were eight or ten feet tall at the very least! And they and the pile of ingots, instead of being close to me, were more distant than I had thought.

Alan was trying to signal me. The tiny girl was again at his ear, whispering to him. And then she came to me.

“I have a knife. See?” She backed away. I caught the pin-point gleam of what might have been a knife in her hand. “I will get a little larger. I am too small to cut your ropes. You lie still, even after I have cut them.”

I nodded. The movement frightened her so that she leaped backward; but she came again, smiling. The three men were talking earnestly by the ingots. No one else was near us.

Glora’s tiny voice was louder, so that we both could hear it at once.

“When I free you, do not move or they may see that you are loose. I get larger now--a little larger--and return.”

She darted away and vanished. Alan and I lay listening to the voices of the three men. Two were talking in a strange tongue. One called to the man at the microscope, and he responded. The third man said suddenly:

“Say, talk English. You know damn well I can’t understand that lingo.”

“We say, McGuire, the two prisoners soon wake up.”

“What we oughta do is kill ‘em. Polter’s a fool.”

“The doctor say, wait for him return. Not long--what you call three, four hours.”

“And have the Quebec police up here lookin’ fer ‘em? An’ that damn girl he stole off the terrace--What did he call her, Barbara Kent?”

“These two who are drugged, their bodies can be thrown in a gully down behind St. Anne. That what the doctor plan to do, I think. Then the police find them--days maybe from now--and their smashed airship with them.”

Gruesome suggestion!

The man at the microscope called, “They are gone. Almost. I can hardly see them more.” He left the platform and joined the others. And I saw that he was much smaller than they--about my own size possibly.

There seemed six men here altogether. Four now, by the ingots, and two others far across the room where I saw the dark entrance of the corridor-tunnel which led to Polter’s castle.

Again I felt a warning hand touch my face, and saw the figure of Glora standing by my head. She was larger now--about a foot tall. She moved past my eyes; stood by my mouth; bent down over my gag. I felt the cautious side of a tiny knife-blade inserted under the fabric of the gag. She hacked, tugged at it, and in a moment ripped it through.

She stood panting from the effort. My heart was pounding with fear that she would be seen; but the man had turned the central light off when he left the microscope, and it was far darker here now than before.

I moistened my dry mouth. My tongue was thick, but I could talk.

“Thank you, Glora.”

“Quiet!”

I felt her hacking at the ropes around my wrists. And then at my ankles. It took her a long time, but at last I was free! I rubbed my arms and legs; felt the returning strength in them.

And presently Alan was free. “George, what--” he began.

“Wait!” I whispered. “Easy! Let her tell us what to do.”

We were unarmed. Two, against these six, three of whom were giants.

Glora whispered, “Do not move! I have the drugs. But I can no give them to you when I am still so small. I have not enough. I will hide--there.” Her little arm gestured to where, near us, half a dozen boxes were piled. “When I am large as you, I come back. Be ready, quickly to act. I may be seen. I give you then the drug.”

“But wait,” Alan whispered. “We must know--”

“The drug to make you large. In a moment then you can fight these men. I had planned it for myself, to do that, and then I saw you held captive. That girl of your world the doctor just now steal, she is friend of yours?

“Yes! Yes, Glora. But--” A thousand questions were springing in my mind, but this was no time to ask them. I amended, “Go! Hurry! Give us the drug when you can.”

The little figure moved away from us and disappeared. Alan and I lay as we had before. But now we could whisper. We tried to anticipate what would happen; tried to plan, but that was futile. The thing was too strange, too astoundingly fantastic.

HOW long Glora was gone I do not know. I think, not over three or four minutes. She came from her hiding place, crouching this time, and joined us. She was, probably, of normal Earth size--a small, frail-looking girl something over five feet tall. We saw now that she was about sixteen years old. We lay staring at her, amazed at her beauty. Her small oval face was pale, with the flush of pink upon her cheeks--a face queerly, transcendently beautiful. It was wholly human, yet somehow unearthly, as though unmarked by even the heritage of our Earthly strifes.

“Now! I am ready.” She was fumbling at her robe. “I will give you each the same.”

Her gestures were rapid. She flung a quick glance at the distant men. Alan and I were tense. We could easily be discovered now, but we had to chance it. We were sitting erect. He murmured:

“But what do we do? What happens? What--”

On the palm of her hand were two small pink-white pellets. “Take these--one for each of you. Quickly!”

Involuntarily we drew back. The thing abruptly was gruesome, frightening. Horribly frightening.

“Quickly,” she urged. “The drug is what you call highly radio-active. And volatile. Exposed to the air it is gone very soon. You are afraid? No! No, it will not harm you.”