And beyond Paris lies Constantinople; and beyond that, Arabia--the East! Men are going out that way, tonight! And I--stick here like an old, done relic, cooped in _Niss'rosh_--imprisoned in this steel and glass cage of my own making!" Suddenly he wheeled, flung himself into the big chair by the table and dragged the faun's head over to him.

He pressed a button at the base of it, waited a moment and as the question came, "Number, please ?" spoke the desired number into the cupped hand and ear of the bronze.
Then, as he waited again, with the singular telephone in hand, he growled savagely: "By Allah! This sort of thing's not going to go on any longer! Not if I die stopping it!" A familiar voice, issuing from the lips of the faun--a voice made natural and audible as the living human tones, by means of a delicate microphone attachment inside the bronze head--tautened his nerves.
"Hello, hello!" called he.

"That you, Bohannan ?" "Yes," sounded the answer.

"Of course I know who _you_ are.

There's only one voice like yours in New York.