Georg slid down them. The barrage, above him on the balcony, had been replaced. He saw below him the figure of Argo come running out. A weapon in each hand. The burning pencil-ray swung at Georg, but missed him as he came down. Had it struck, it would have drilled him clean with its tiny hole of fire. Then Argo must have realized that Georg should be taken alive. He ran forward, swung up at Georg the paralyzing vibrations which Tarrano at that instant was using upon Wolfgar and me.
Georg felt them. He was ten feet, perhaps, above the lower platform; and as he felt the numbness strike him, he lost his hold upon the tube-pipe. But he had presence of mind enough to kick himself outward with a last effort. His body fell upon the onrushing Argo. They went down together.
Argo lay inert. The impact had knocked him senseless, and had struck his weapon from his hand. Georg sat up, and for a moment chafed his tingling, prickling arms and legs. He was bruised and shaken by the fall, but uninjured.
Within our tower, Tarrano was still occupied with us. Georg leaped to his feet. He left Argo lying there--ran over the spider-bridge; down a spiral metal stairway, across another bridge, and came upon the small park-like platform which stood at the bottom of the other tower. He had passed within sight of a few pedestrians. One of them shouted at him; another had tried mildly to stop him. A crowd on a distant terrace saw him. A few of their personal flashes were turned his way. Murmurs arose. Someone at the head of one of the escalators, in a panic pulled an alarm-switch. It flared green into the sky, flashing its warning.
The interior-guards--seated at their instrument tables in the lower rooms of the official buildings--had seen Georg in their finders. The alarm was spreading. Lights were appearing everywhere.... The murmurs of gathering people ... excited crowds ... an absurd woman leaning down over a far-away parapet and screaming ... an ignorant, flustered street-guard on a nearby upper terrace swinging his pencil-ray down at Georg.... Fortunately it fell short.
For a moment Georg stood there, with the gathering tumult around him--stood there gazing up at that small tower. The tower wherein the Princess Maida was confined. It was dark and silent. Black rectangles of doors and casements, all open--but barred by the glow of the electrical barrage surrounding it.