Instantly the form moved--and slipped over the verge into the blue.

Huldricksson threw his body over the stone, hands clutching, arms thrust deep down--and from his lips issued a long-drawn, heart-shrivelling wail of pain and of anguish that held in it nothing human! Close on its wake came a cry from Marakinoff.
"Catch him!" shouted the Russian.

"Drag him back! Quick!" He leaped forward, but before he could half clear the distance, O'Keefe had leaped too, had caught the Norseman by the shoulders and toppled him backward, where he lay whimpering and sobbing.

And as I rushed behind Marakinoff I saw Larry lean over the lip of the Pool and cover his eyes with a shaking hand; saw the Russian peer into it with real pity in his cold eyes.
Then I stared down myself into the Moon Pool, and there, sinking, was a little maid whose dead face and fixed, terror-filled eyes looked straight into mine; and ever sinking slowly, slowly--vanished! And I knew that this was Olaf's Freda, his beloved yndling! But where was the mother, and where had Olaf found his babe?
The Russian was first to speak.
"You have nitroglycerin there, yes ?" he asked, pointing toward my medical kit that I had gripped unconsciously and carried with me during the mad rush down the passage.

I nodded and drew it out.
"Hypodermic," he ordered next, curtly; took the syringe, filled it accurately with its one one-hundredth of a grain dosage, and leaned over Huldricksson.