III THINK I DID NOT QUITE lose consciousness. I was aware that I had fallen to the earthy ground, with Shorty and Vivian bending over me. My head was roaring; I was bathed in cold sweat. Then I began to feel better, trying to sit up, with Shorty’s arm holding me.
“You’re all right now, Bob? Can’t you speak?”
“Yes. I—guess so.”
Whatever had happened which had brought me here when an instant ago, it seemed, I was walking alone by the park, none of us could imagine. The identical experience had happened to Shorty, to Vivian La Marr; and to Peter Mack, and J. Walter Blaine.
“But—where are we?” I demanded, when in another moment I was strong enough to struggle upright in the crimson glowing darkness.
“Damned if we know,” Shorty said. It seemed a sort of underground grotto. I could begin to
