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We have talked it over, and have decided that you must have that eight months’ extra chance. And so, dear daughter, this must be farewell.

When the gas is gone Anthony will come to seek us, if he still lives. You will know him by the white robe of metal fabric he will wear, with its black girdle. Trust yourself to him; he was our friend. If all the food has been consumed, and he still has not come, open the door. But fate will not be so cruel to you.

We are weary of the long waiting, Naomi. Do not grieve for us. We shall go out into the gas hand in hand, and release will be welcome.

God guard you.

* * * * *
Allan was deeply moved by the love and sacrifice so simply worded. He looked at the girl, and had to blink away a mist that hazed his sight before he could see her. “I see,” he said. “When the year ended and Anthony had not come, you opened the door–“

“And the gas was gone. Then I heard someone moving far down the corridor. I was so happy. Who could it be but Anthony? I called. A hairy, black giant came running, bellowing in some strange language. I was terribly frightened: I think I screamed, and tried to shut the door. But he was too quick for me: he was in the room, and his filthy paws reached out for me. I screamed again, dodged away from him. He pursued me. I threw myself backward, tripped, and fell. My head crashed against the floor.

“The next thing I knew I was here, and you were twisted and jammed there in front of me. At first I wanted to run, then I saw your robe. I dragged you out. Then I spied that other pile of wreckage, and I thought you too were dead….” She covered her face with her hands.

* * * * *

Allan turned his head, saw for the first time the crumpled debris of the black ship, a hundred feet away, saw stark forms. “There’s nothing to be afraid of now,” he said. “It’s all over. We’ll soon be with your father’s friend, with Anthony.”

A little smile of reassurance trembled on the girls lips. “Oh, do you think so?”

Allan nodded.

“Sure thing! Just trust to me, Miss …?”

“Call me Naomi.”

“I’m Allan.” The pilot thrust out his big hand, full fleshed now, and a little white one fluttered into it. An electric thrill rippled at the contact, and the two hands clung. The girl gave a little gasp, and pink flushed her cheeks.

Naomi shivered a little, and Allan realized that a chill breeze was sweeping across the roof-tops and that daylight was almost gone. “Look here, partner, we’d better get started, somewhere.” He pulled himself to his feet. Pain shot through him and his head still throbbed. “I’d better take a look at that.” He gestured to the wreck of the Eastern ship. “You wait here.”

When he returned his face was pallid, and there was a sick look in his eyes. The girl asked sharply: “What is it? What’s wrong? Tell me, Allan!”

He looked at her grimly, started to say something, thought better of it. Then: “It wasn’t a pleasant sight.” He shrugged. “Come on, let’s see what we can find. We’ll have to spend the night here, and start for Sugar Loaf Mountain in the morning.”

Once more Allan descended a narrow, spiral staircase into darkness and silence. But this time someone was at his side, and a warmness ran through him at the thought.

* * * * *