“Charlemagne!”
“Now what?”
“Can I help?”
“Yes,” came the cryptic reply; “stay out of our way.”
Steve snarled, but he got no reply.
A gout of energy flashed past his viewport, blinding him. Then he realized that he was unprotected, and only a nuisance here.
But—
“Go along with him,” said William Wrightwood. “Aid him, and—”
Steve laughed bitterly; swapped ends, and flashed along the line toward Sanaron.
He dropped down upon Wrightwood’s hotel and dashed along the corridor. He shouldered his way into the suite with a yell that brought servants and hotel detectives running. It also brought William Wrightwood from his bed, clad in a pair of pale blue silk pajamas.
Somehow it seemed appropriate to flee a h*******t in a pair of passionate pajamas, and for the first time in years Steve s
