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Come on in, you two I don't see how you can possibly sleep, just as though you were home in bed." "You've got to learn to sleep anywhere if you expect to keep in...." Costigan broke off as he opened the door and saw Clio's wan face. She had evidently spent a sleepless and wracking eight hours. "Good Lord, Clio, why didn't you call me?" "Oh, I'm all right, except for being a little jittery.
"Hurry, dear! They are coming out here after me!" "Sure they are." Costigan had already seen the two Nevians swimming out toward Clio's cage, and had hurled his vessel downward in a screaming power dive. "You're too valuable a specimen for them to let you be gassed, but if they can get there before I do they're traveling fast!"
Plenty has happened to plenty of women here, and men too and plenty may happen to us unless we put out a few jets. Keep a stiff upper lip, and if you want us, yell. 'Bye!" The silent voice ceased, the watch upon Clio's wrist again became an unobtrusive timepiece, and Costigan, in his solitary cell far below her tower room, turned his peculiarly goggled eyes toward other scenes.
"He's left Clio's ether-wall off, so that any abnormal signals would be relayed to him from his desk he knows that there's no chance of anyone disturbing him in that room. But I'm holding my beam on that switch it's as good a conductor as metal so that the wall is on, full strength. No matter what we do now, he can't get a warning.
Costigan's door flew open and the Triplanetary captain leaped into the room. "Now for our armor!" he cried. "Not yet!" snapped Costigan. He was standing rigid, goggled eyes staring immovably at a spot upon the ceiling. "I can't move a millimeter until you've closed Clio's ether-wall switch. If I take this ray off it for a second we're sunk.
Then she stood tense, crouching, her hands to her mouth, her eyes askance, as much as to say "Now I've done it!" She listened hard, holding her breath. In the stillness of the night was a faint sound of dripping water, and presently of footsteps going away. Then stillness unbroken. I said that I was Clio's servant.
It were best to attempt to record the intangible things; the golden-green light, the perfumes, and the faint musical laughter which we can hear if we listen. Thalia's laughter, surely, not Clio's. Thalia, enamoured with such a theme, has taken the stage herself and as Vesta, goddess of hearths. It was Vesta whom they felt to be presiding.
On him, straightway, Zeus would confer invisibility, inevitability, and psychic penetration, with a flawless memory thrown in. On the following afternoon, Clio's roving eye saw Zuleika stepping from the Paddington platform into the Oxford train. A few moments later I found myself suddenly on Parnassus. In hurried words Clio told me how I came there, and what I had to do.
Hardly a day passed but he appeared in what he hoped would be the irresistible form a recently discovered fragment of Polybius, an advance copy of the forthcoming issue of "The Historical Review," the note-book of Professor Carl Voertschlaffen... One day, all-prying Hermes told him of Clio's secret addiction to novel-reading.
Indeed it would seem that Clio's high spirit did but sharpen his desire.
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