T
he door of the apartment was ajar. The puzzled expression on Jim Drake's face changed to one of worried interest. He pushed the door open swiftly, and silently. The lights were out. A sound came from the direction of the window and straining he thought he saw the curtain blow in slightly. On tiptoe he went swiftly around the side of the big room. The chair by the bed had been moved and he struck his shin on it in the dark.
The room flashed white as he pressed the electric button. Hot anger passed through his body. Every piece of furniture in the room had been tipped upside down. Linings were torn from the chairs. His clothing was heaped in an ugly pile in the middle of the floor. Drawers were pulled out and emptied.
The fur! He ran swiftly to the closet, twisted the handle and breathed a sigh of relief. The cedar chest was broken and splintered around the lock, but the cover hadn't been lifted. He inserted the key quickly and drew out the fur cape. Its rich depth felt more precious than ever in his fingers. Here in his hands was the link to his first real love affair.
A footstep sounded faintly behind him. His heart was in his throat. Drake whipped around and sprang to his feet. He stared straight into the barrel of a wicked automatic. Lifting his eyes slowly, he studied the man who held the weapon.
The stranger's face was hard as stone, almost barbaric. His bronze skin stretched tightly over firm, high cheek bones. The mouth was open slightly in a determined way. Teeth that flashed like an uneven row of pearls seemed half savage, yet not unfriendly.
"You will come toward me slowly," the man's voice was cultured, yet hesitant, as though he hadn't spoken English for many years. "A false move will destroy you."
He backed away toward the center of the room.
"How ... where?" Drake stammered.
"You forgot to examine the bath," the gunman said. "You are not a painstaking young man, Jim Drake."
Jim started. The man knew his name, held a gun on him that threatened immediate death, and yet his voice was friendly, ever courteous.
"I have nothing here that you want," Drake said.
H
e stood in the middle of the room now. The stranger reached down carefully with one hand, still holding his aim. He twisted a chair upright and sat down. For the first time Drake had a chance to look him over more carefully. His eyes were the same deep black as Sylvia Fanton's. Cold and yet somehow gentle.
"You are holding in your hand what I need more than anything in the world." The man relaxed but the gun didn't waver. Drake sat down opposite him on the edge of the bed.
"The fur?" he asked.
"The fox fur." The gun settled on the strange intruder's knee and he leaned forward eagerly. "Give it to me at once. If I leave with it now, you will be troubled no more. This is as our mistress demands."
Then Sylvia Fanton had sent him. He must be one of the henchmen she had spoken of. At once Drake felt relieved. He pushed the fur away from him slowly, hating to part with it. The man stood up, took it with his free hand and held it tightly.
"You are very wise," he said slowly.
He started to back toward the window.
"Wait," Drake was on his feet, "Sylvia promised to return in the morning. Why...?"
A look of compassion spread across the gunman's face.
"Sylvia Fanton is no more," he said pityingly. "You had but a brief glimpse of an earthly woman who is the most perfect creation on earth. Now she has completed her mission and will return to her people."
"Then you did get the diamond?" Drake was sorry at once that he had spoken. The man's eyes turned icy.
"We have done what we came to do," he said shortly. "We appreciate the part you played in our success. More than that, I am not at liberty to discuss. Please do not follow me as I leave."
Then, carefully,
"Make no mistake, Mr. Drake. Our queen came very close to deserting her sacred trust. If you were to see her again, you would not enjoy the same close association. There is no place in her life for you, or you would be going with me instead of staying here at the point of a gun."
Drake moved forward hesitantly, and then stopped with the gesture of a man who knows he is beaten.
"Okay," he admitted. "You've got me on the spot. But remember this: George Lardner thinks more of that diamond than he does his life. He's going to leave a trail of blood in every country of the world, but he'll get it if you don't kill him first."
The gunman's face was a mask of hatred.
"Do not underestimate the power Lardner is fighting," he said grimly. "There will be blood, yes. It will be Lardner's blood. He has a debt to pay, and it is not our wish that you be involved when payment is made. Our leader whom you know as Sylvia Fanton has one message for you. Goodbye."
He tossed a small envelope of paper at Jim's feet and was gone through the window as silently as a floating cloud.
J
im stood speechless for a second, then he went toward the window and looked down the long line shadow of the fire escape. There was no one in sight. A small dog darted along the edge of the alley far below. Or was it a dog? His bewildered mind told him the animal was more like a fox in its quick, sly movements.
Drake picked up the slip of paper in shaking fingers. He opened it and stared at the neat longhand message:
We were very close to love, Jim Drake. Love is not good for a woman who has my obligations.
The outer door rattled noisily. Drake took a second quick look at the note and stuffed it into his pocket. Puffy Adams stormed in and stopped abruptly with a shocked look in his eyes.
"Been havin' a party?" he asked whimsically. "Looks like the guests came on a whirlwind."
Drake was silent. He started to rearrange the room mechanically. Duffy collected the clothing from the floor and replaced it in the closet. The boss would talk when he got ready.
From the chair by the cocktail table, Drake said suddenly, "What about Lardner? Did Mary know where he went?"
Puffy, his job completed, slumped across the bed.
"That guy Lardner is off on another trip." He started to slip his shoes off, thought better of it, and tied the laces again. "Mary says he gave the employees all a month's pay and said he'd be back in time to keep them in cash next month."
Through a cloud of pipe smoke, Drake was placing more pieces into the jigsaw of Sylvia Fanton's life.
"Any idea where he's going?" he asked.
Puffy shook his head.
"Not the slightest," he admitted. "Mary says her boss is tighter than a bum's pocketbook when it comes to information."
Drake had enough pipe smoke. He put it away carefully and stood up.
"I see you didn't get the shoes off after all," he said a little slyly. "Going somewhere?"
Puffy arose, took a suitcase from the closet shelf and started tossing clothing into it.
"I think so," he said grimly. "If I'm half as good a stooge as I think I am, we'll be needing overcoats before we get back."
Drake was already waiting at the door when his companion lifted the heavy bag to his shoulder and prepared to follow.
"Got your long underwear?" he asked soothingly. "We're going to the airport first, but after that I've got a hunch we'll go diamond prospecting somewhere east of Hudson Bay."
Puffy shivered.
"Cinderella Drake hunts the silver slipper." His voice was doubtful, his eyes were twinkling. "If you find it up there, you'll freeze your foot trying the damned thing on."
T
he Municipal Airport was deserted, save for a small group of men waiting just outside the main lobby. They were obviously the members of a dance band. Instruments were packed and waiting on the baggage truck outside as Drake and Puffy entered. Drake went straight to the ticket window. The man behind the ticket cage looked up with a smile as he approached. His eyes were tired and questioning.
"Yes, sir?" in quiet friendliness.
Drake tossed a roll of bills on the counter.
"We're thinking of taking the night plane to Winnipeg," he said indecisively. "Any empty berths?"
The clerk grinned.
"Fortunately for you," he said, "there aren't any priority passengers tonight. The Winnipeg job has been full of flyers headed for the Canadian border for the past two weeks. Nothing of importance tonight. Five berths available."
Drake looked around curiously.
"Have you a passenger named George Lardner?" he asked.
The clerk took down a small file and thumbed through it. He shook his head.
"No. Had you planned to meet him here?"
Drake smiled.
"We had a date," he admitted. "George Lardner is headed for the same destination. He'll no doubt catch a later plane and meet us in Winnipeg."
The clerk was penning figures rapidly across the ticket.
"You won't lack for entertainment," he laughed in a low voice. "That gang at the door call themselves Harry's Rhythm Rascals. Headed for a dance job up there."
"I'd rather have a quiet berth," Drake admitted. "Need sleep more than I need rhythm."
The clerk collected the two fares and said sleepily,
"Your plane will take off in twenty minutes, sir. May as well get aboard. The berths are made up."
"Thanks." Drake pocketed the tickets and motioned for Adams to follow. As they passed Harry's Rhythm Rascals, Drake watched one of the men turn slowly and follow him.
"That guy must be the tuba player," Puffy said quickly. "He sure looks as though he'd been pushed around."
The luggage was disposed of and in ten minutes Drake was lying quietly under the dome of the plane. A sudden throb of motors came from up ahead. With half closed eyes he wondered, if at the end of this mad journey, Sylvia Fanton might be waiting for him. George Lardner wouldn't be far away. Although the plane trip had started like a wild goose chase, at least he was headed in the general direction of trouble, and the grandest girl he had ever met. Turning restlessly on one side, he was aware that the bumpy ground was no longer under the plane and the three great motors were purring smoothly as they drifted ahead through the starlit night.
J
im!—Jim!" Drake opened one eye with effort, remembered that he was in a plane bound for Winnipeg, and sat up. Through the parted curtain he could see the dark earth underneath sprinkled occasionally with a handful of twinkling lights. Puffy Adams was leaning over the berth, his body clad in oversized pajamas, eyes wide with excitement.
"The orchestra!" Puffy was muttering. "They ain't! They're Lardner's gunmen! Lardner's on board!" He babbled on.
"Wait a minute!" Drake was wide awake now. He helped Adams into the berth, holding a warning finger over his lips. "Now," he said firmly, "one thing at a time."
"Those punks that called themselves Harry's Rhythm Rascals. They got a plane full of tommy guns. They can't play butonetune on those."
Drake's eyes narrowed.
"How did you find out?"
"I couldn't sleep," Puffy said. "Went up front to get a glass of water and find that pretty hostess to keep me company."
"So?"
Puffy gulped.
"So she isn't aboard the plane. We landed somewhere last night right after we took off. I didn't think nothin' of it. Ain't used to these airplanes. Well, when I was up front I heard two of these punks talkin' in their berths."
He opened the curtain slightly and looked both ways along the narrow aisle.
"This whole damned plane is full of Lardner's men. They were laughing at the trick they pulled on the airlines. Seems they forced the pilot to land, threw out both pilots and the hostess. Lardner was waiting at the private field and he came aboard."
"You're sure Lardner's on this plane?" Drake asked. "You didn't dream all this?"
"Listen, Cinderella." Puffy was himself again. "This sky bird is headquarters for every ex-con in Chicago. I don't know why they didn't throw us off with the hostess, but I sure wish they had."
A hard smile twisted Drake's lips.
"I think," he said, "that we're going to see Sylvia Fanton much sooner than I had planned. Unless we do some fast thinking we may not see her alive."
T
hey sat quietly as Drake studied the country under the plane. He tried to discover some landmark listed on the map. There was nothing but scarred, snowcapped mountain peaks. A sprinkling of toothpick pines relieved the monotony of blinding snow, here and there. Gradually, as the plane droned on, even these were left behind. Ahead—only the white wastes.
From somewhere forward in the plane came a hard chuckle of laughter.
"Our hosts are coming to life," Drake said. "It's now or never." He pushed bare feet into the aisle and dropped, stretching his arms overhead with a yawn.
"As soon as I'm out of sight," he whispered, "get back to your berth and dress. I'll see you in the cabin ahead. Act as though you know nothing. Understand?"
Puffy grinned sadly.
"That'll be easy," he answered, "but I've been around those violins that talk death before. Don't like a tommy gun unless it's in my own hands."
"Okay," Drake said grimly. "Keep your mouth shut and you may get your wish."
He slipped into his shoes, dressing quickly, went toward the tiny wash room halfway up the aisle. One of Lardner's men was making a hurried exit. They met, heads down, with a jarring blow. The gunman started to swear loudly, caught himself and said in a mock pleasant voice,
"Good morning. Say, ain't this a darb of a trip?"
Drake nodded.
"Guess I'll splash a little water over my face if you're done."
The man's heavy face lighted in an embarrassed smile. He stepped hurriedly to one side.
"Oh—oh sure. The sink's all yours."
Once inside, Drake locked the door quickly. He washed the sleepiness from his eyes. So the laugh was on him after all. Lardner was in control of the ship, and headed for the lost Flaming Diamond. Where, Drake wondered, did he and Puffy Adams fit into the picture?
Suddenly there was a difference in the tune the motors were humming. The plane slanted down at an abrupt angle and Drake pitched forward against the wall. Struggling up, he heard a sharp knock at the door.
"Better strap yourself into a seat," a strange voice carried through the wall, muffled and far away.
He turned the lock quickly, lurched out, and felt an automatic in the small of his back.
"Hey!" Drake feigned surprise. "What the hell?"
"Never mind, buddy," the man gave him a sharp push toward the cabin, "get yourself strapped in. We ain't got time to tell stories."
A sharp prod of the gun settled the argument. Silently Drake went forward. Puffy was already in his seat, his face an expressionless mask.
"Remember," he whispered, "keep your chin stiff and wait for a break. The fun has really started."
T
he plane had dropped and leveled off. Lardner's men seemed to have forgotten their captives in the excitement. They sat with faces glued to the windows, watching curiously as George Lardner at the controls brought them down in ever tightening circles toward the valley below.
Adams nudged his companion.
"Look at 'em," he whispered. "The rattiest looking bunch of bums I've ever seen. What in hell does Lardner need so many guns for?"
"To finish murdering a race of people," Drake answered coldly. "A job that he started when he found the Flaming Diamond. If he has a chance, he'll finish the task to get it back again."
"Shut up, back there!" A lean, sharp nosed individual in the seat ahead turned slightly. "No talk now. You'll have plenty of chance later on."
A ripple of hard laughter went through the cabin.
George Lardner was an expert pilot. More than that, he was familiar with the country over which they were flying. Realizing that any attempt to escape now would be futile, Drake tried to memorize the layout of the small valley into which Lardner seemed to be heading.
With the entire country a white layer of blowing snow it was difficult to make out the sharp walls of granite that arose from the cup-shaped hole below. It was like a huge bomb crater, perhaps ten miles across. On the valley bottom was the smoothly swept blue-green of a frozen lake.
The plane banked abruptly and Lardner cut the motors. Drake felt the tenseness mount within the cabin. A fear was filling these State Street gunmen that had never troubled them before. The motors were silent. The ship dropped below the lip of the canyon wall and the wind died smoothly. Circling, Lardner gunned the motors again and roared in straight over the strip of frozen ice.
Try as he might Drake could see no sign of life or human habitation. Heavy fir trees came straight to the edge of the lake, standing guard stiff and frozen.
The plane zoomed up sharply and cut back over the lake leaving a black shadow against the ice. It sank down, bounced gently and rolled ahead. They went straight toward the high cliff at the far end of the lake.
"This guy better know what he's doing." Puffy clutched the chair ahead and held on grimly. "Or we'll crack up like a broken match against that wall."
Drake was silent. A murmur of anxious voices arose about them. They still rolled swiftly toward the cliff. Lardner seemed to make no attempt to cut speed. The plane took the bump at the edge of the lake, and then Drake saw the cavern ahead. It was huge and black, cut at an angle in the surface of the rock. A sudden blur of rock walls and they were in the darkness of the cave. The plane settled back roughly on its shock absorbers and stopped. Lights flashed on within the cabin.
G
eorge Lardner pushed through the small communication door between the pilot's cabin and the waiting gangsters. As he came, he jerked the helmet and goggles from his eyes. A hard smile on his heavy face left no doubt as to his frame of mind.
"Hello, Drake," the mouth a mask of expressionless hate. "I take my hat off to you. Never gave Cinderella Drake credit for being anything but a whiskey mill."
Jim stood up slowly, knowing these minutes might be his last. Fear was in his heart. Not for himself, but for the doom that faced Sylvia Fanton unless she could be warned of Lardner's coming. There was no doubt in Jim Drake's mind that this frozen valley was the home of the fox people and their queen.
Lardner wasn't the soft night club owner now. The man was short and stocky, but with bulging arms that were tensed for action. The dark face was filled with devilish purpose.
"I'd like to know why we weren't thrown out of the plane last night with the others?" Drake said quietly.
"Oh! That?" Lardner chuckled. "I knew you were headed toward this valley and I thought you'd appreciate the lift."
"For your information," Drake answered coolly, "we took the plane for Winnipeg. Where we are now I haven't the slightest idea."
George Lardner started toward the outer door. He whipped around savagely, his face twisted into a hateful grimace.
"All right, play boy," he snapped. "You asked for it. Now it's my turn. I know you helped Sylvia Fanton to escape. I know you had a part in stealing the diamond, and I also know you are in love with the girl. That, if you'll have the truth, is why you are with us now."
A hissing sigh escaped Puffy Adams' lips. He was beginning to understand now why Lardner had not shot them both long ago.
"So I am to act as decoy," Drake said. "If you think I'll let you torture that girl, you're a madman."
Lardner ignored him. He pushed the outer door of the cabin open and dropped heavily to the cave floor.
"Unpack your stuff, boys," he ordered crisply. "And keep an eye on our guests. I want them to be safe and comfortable."
The gangsters closed in, and some of them started for the baggage compartment.
A ring of steel closed about the pair.
"Out, quick," one of the plug uglies mumbled. "And don't try to get away."
T
o Drake's surprise the cave was warm, as though heated from some vast, hidden source of fire. Lardner was well ahead of them, going cautiously down the long tunnel. A flash-light sent its beam ahead of his outstretched hand. The baggage was handed down quickly and tommy guns came into sight from the instrument cases. They were smoothly polished and glistened under the dull light of lanterns. They followed Lardner slowly down the vast hall that led under the lip of the mountain. It was warmer and more humid now.
"The boss knows what he's doing," a voice said behind Drake. "These fox people can't do us any harm during the day. By night we'll be ready to blast them down in short order."
Unable to speak to Puffy, Drake was thinking plenty. If they went on to wherever the tunnel led them, it would be too late to face Lardner with any show of force. Drake knew that Sylvia Fanton would be caught off guard if she were here. Could he raise some sort of alarm?
The man at his side seemed a trifle sleepy and disinterested in what was going on. Making sure the man's gun was pointed away where he wouldn't jerk the trigger, Drake lifted an arm high, pointing toward the dark roof of the cave. Pretending fright, he shouted:
"Oh my God! Look!"
Before Lardner could control them, two men had raised their guns and sent salvos of lead screaming into the darkness. Lardner's voice, ahead in the shaft, shattered the silence that followed with wild oaths.
"Who the hell did that?" He stormed back toward Drake, but Jim was well satisfied with what he had done. The sound would carry for miles into the base of the mountain. If Sylvia or her people were here....
From far down the shaft a faint bark echoed clearly. It was the bark of a fox, followed in quick succession by more of the same sounds.
George Lardner faced him, neck red and arms akimbo.
"You're getting too damned clever for your own good," he shouted. "I oughta' knock some of the cockiness out of you."
Drake had a slow temper. But behind the Cinderella Drake who had soused himself so thoroughly in Lardner's whiskey still lurked the keen eyed air patrol cadet who had only six months ago put his body through every air battle on the west coast. Some of the old strength and nerve were coming back now. Coming with a rush of hot blood to his head.
Puffy Adams had sworn he'd stick by Drake until that spirit returned. Now, ringed in by steel death, Adams' face lighted with interest. Yet, he realized that Drake had small chance against these bums.
The cave was dead silent again. Lardner breathed hard, crouched like an oversized wrestler about to spring.
D
rake's face was suddenly cold, emotionless.
"If your men weren't ready to shoot me down the minute I move," he said slowly, "I'd pound you within an inch of your rotten life."
Lardner's face lighted slowly and a sardonic grin crossed his face.
"Talk big, play boy," he urged. "I don't need lead to put you out of the way."
Drake's slim body shot forward with the suddenness of a catapult. His shoulders were low as they struck Lardner's thick belly. Caught off guard, Lardner's heavy, ape arms twisted about Jim's waist and he started to crush Drake's body against his own. With a quick twist Drake was loose, dodging backward as a light left caught Lardner on the chest. Lardner jumped in quickly, puffing hard. His right arm swept out and brought blood to Drake's nose.
The slim air cadet shook his head, feeling the sting on his face. He brushed an arm across his nose, and felt warm blood on his fingers. This time Drake went in low, caught Lardner with his left hand just above the belt. The big man bent over with a grunt as Drake's right climbed under his chin like a looping Spitfire. Jim Drake's right fist went home with the entire impact of his shoulder behind it. He felt a twinge of pain shoot through his arm as Lardner's head swept backward with a jerk. The fat man stumbled and sat down abruptly. He looked surprised and frightened, shaking his head back and forth like an angry bull.
"You dirty...." Lardner didn't attempt to rise. His face was flaming red. "Shoot the legs out from under him."
A tommy came up swiftly, trained on Drake.
"Hold it!" A harsh, almost frightened voice came from the shadows by the wall.
Puffy Adams stood, back to the granite, sweeping a tommy gun around on the gang of men. His trigger finger was poised easily, the gun slung carelessly in the curve of his arm. His voice, frightened for Drake, became cool as he saw the last gun drop toward the floor.
"One shot," he said, "and I'll poke enough lead into your boss to keep you rats from ever flying anywhere again."
Drake was at his side now.
"How did you manage it?" he whispered.
"Black-jack," Puffy grinned. "They were interested in you. It wasn't hard."
G
eorge Lardner was frightened. The tommy gun was aimed at his head and he knew Puffy Adams wouldn't hesitate when the time came to shoot. He sat up slowly, eyes on the pair by the wall. Then like a shot he rolled quickly over and over into the darkness beyond the lighted area. His voice, harsh and powerful shouted.
"Get them, quick!"
A hail of lead swept the air over his head as Puffy jerked backward.
"It's the firing squad," Adams shouted. He dropped to one knee and opened up wide.
Lardner was snarling something unintelligible. Guns swept around on the men by the wall. Then from within the circle of men compressed hell broke loose. Someone was opening up a deadly fire from within the ranks. Gunmen screamed in pain and turned their guns in every direction, trying to determine who had betrayed them.
"Run for it, Drake. Down the tunnel."
The voice was vaguely familiar. Drake didn't hesitate. He clutched Adams' arm and together they dashed into the blackness ahead. From behind them, the sound of gun shots ceased. Only loud groans of pain drifted to them as they went forward through the midnight blackness. Then, far behind, single footsteps followed them hesitantly.
Lardner was still alive. Drake had heard him curse softly as they passed him. He felt blood on Puffy's arm.
"You're hurt," he said quietly. "Where did it hit?"
"Just a nick." Puffy sounded game. "Glanced off the shoulder. A bit of shirt will fix it up. Say! That was a nice poke you took at Lardner."
T
he tunnel grew wider. Far ahead a pale shower of colored light tossed against the walls like a weak rainbow. There wasn't a sound ahead or behind them. Drake led the way swiftly. The light seemed stronger, drawing them toward its source.
Then they stood on the edge of a great chamber. From the walls of the circular room a barbaric curtain of rainbowed color sprayed down toward its center.
It flashed and changed as they watched with wide eyes, changing into rich shades of purple, gold, orchid and startling the eye with its everchanging spectrum.
In the direct center of the chamber on a raised dais stood the huge carved statue of a marble polar bear. It towered ten feet high, a magnificent standing beast with lifted outstretched paw. On the back of the bear a small throne had been carved. The blinding flood of color that converged on the throne, hid anything that might be seated there.
Drake clutched his companion's arm.
"Look!"
He pointed toward the low pit that surrounded the statue.
Puffy nodded.
"The biggest fox farm in the world," he said dryly. "Or I'm going nuts."
As their eyes grew accustomed to the changing light, the pit grew clear. The animals became visible against the floor of the pit. There were thousands of them lying about the chamber. They spread over the floor carpeting it with rich fur like a deep rug of precious black and silver.
One thing held Jim Drake spellbound. Every animal had its head lifted toward the throne atop the bear's back.
His eyes lifted again slowly. His vision broke through the bright haze of light. Stretched out in sleep across the stony back was the perfect nude figure of a girl. She seemed frozen in death, yet the bronzed flesh was alive and throbbing. It was the same girl he had saved from Wildwood Zoo—Sylvia Fanton!
H
e tried to take his eyes away from the vision but could not. Color seemed to splash and caress her body as though it alone gave her the power to exist. Then he knew what it was that made her look human. The light preserved her body during daylight hours, or she would have been forced to enter the body of a fox and mingle in the pit with her own kind.
A queen, Queen of the Flaming Diamond, doomed to lie dead until she could be restored to her normal life.
"What do we do now?" Puffy asked in a tense whisper.
"What I want to know first," Drake said wonderingly, "is who saved us from Lardner's mob?"
"Whoever it was," Adams offered, "he'll never escape them alive."
Soft footsteps came from behind them.
"But you are wrong!"
Drake pivoted, and faced the same man whom he had met in the apartment that night he lost the fur. The man who brought his last message from Sylvia Fanton.
"You see," the man went on quietly, "I am not your enemy. I asked you to stay out of this, but I could not desert you."
Drake's face was lighted in a relieved smile. His hand gripped the other's.
"Now you have saved our life, why did you do it?"
"Because," the man said simply, "you are human and you are good. Sylvia Fanton asked me to help you, and I am her brother."
Puffy Adams sat down abruptly on the cave floor.
"And I," he said unbelievingly, "am the keeper of Cinderella Drake, the sap who still looks for the silver slipper."
"But Sylvia is no fox woman," Drake protested. "She's too warm, too human!"
For a moment there was silence. Then a warm smile lighted the stranger's eyes.
"We are all human," he said. "We are early settlers who came to this valley and sought its sanctuary. Only the curse of George Lardner has spoiled our paradise and driven us into animal form. Perhaps you will see...."
H
e looked hurriedly at the light that was growing dimmer above them. The rainbow had faded swiftly and darkness was coming down on the cavern.
"I am Silvaris, King of the Fox People," he said swiftly. "On the Flaming Diamond depends our ability to exist. Night is almost upon us again, but unless the diamond can be restored to the paw of the bear, there will be no more night or day."
"But you have it!" Drake protested. "Lardner came here to get it back again...."
"Lardner came by mistake to this valley six months ago," Silvaris said brokenly. "We welcomed him as we welcome all people. He betrayed our trust and stole our life source. We took him to our hearts as Sylvia and I were taken many years ago."
"Then you aren't really of the same race?" Drake's voice was filled with relief.
Silvaris shook his head.
"We are here by our own choice," he went on. "Sylvia and I, lost children, found our way here from a trapper's cabin when we were very young. We never tried to leave. When Lardner stole our precious gem, she and I alone knew the ways of civilization. It was our task to return the stone to its rightful place."
"If that diamond is the solution of this mess," Puffy asked in a puzzled voice, "why don't we clean up the mystery right now?"
"Wait!"
Silvaris went slowly down the long steps to the fox pit. He climbed the steps to the side of the polar bear and his sister's lifeless body. From her armpit, he took a huge gem. As he came toward them, Drake knew it was the Lardner stone, flashing and alive in the semi-darkness.
He pushed it into Drake's hands.
"Somehow Lardner pawned a paste imitation of the real Flaming Diamond off on us that night in Chicago," Silvaris said sadly. "The real stone is the only gem that will make the transformation."
Drake examined the diamond curiously.
"Hey!" Puffy said excitedly. "Wait a minute. How come Lardner is so almighty hot after us, if he thinks we've only got a paste?"
"That I cannot explain," Silvaris admitted helplessly. "I purposely disguised myself to mingle with his men. He came to destroy us and yet he knows our life is short now that the diamond is gone. We cannot live long as animals."
F
ar away toward the mouth of the tunnel came the sound of an idling motor. Drake sprang into action.
"I think," he said, "that we can outplay Lardner at whatever game he's playing. He must be wounded. Perhaps too badly to fly."
The face of Silvaris, the Fox King, lightened.
"You are a pilot?" he asked.
Puffy chuckled.
"Cinderella can fly the blind spots off a Jap Zero," he said. "Just strap a pair of wings on him."
They charged toward the mouth of the tunnel. A few hundred feet from the entrance Drake stopped. He picked up a tommy gun where it had been dropped by the fleeing gunmen. Going forward more slowly they saw three men at the entrance, guns pointed into the darkness.
On one knee, Drake fingered the trigger. He picked up a large rock with his free hand and tossed it ten feet to one side. It struck with a loud thump. Immediately red fire cut loose around the place where the rock had hit. Drake brought his finger back lightly against the trigger and watched coldly as the men went down. They pitched forward like alley pins, bleeding and screaming with the pain. There was no time to lose.
Dropping the gun he went forward swiftly, whipping an automatic from his pocket as he ran. Then, seeing Lardner, he took a head dive into the deep snow as the vicious crack of lead whizzed over his head. He rolled over silently coming to his feet with a bound. Lardner, waiting by the plane, shot again and the lead burned into Drake's shoulder. He sprang forward as Lardner's foot lifted toward the open door to the cabin.
Clutching his foot, Drake jerked the man back into the snow with all his strength and they rolled into a white, seething mass of fury. With a short, terrifying blow on the chin he snapped the man's head backward. It twitched queerly and his eyes bulged. Lardner's neck was twisted to one side, stiff and broken.
"The diamond?" Puffy was at his side. Jim Drake bent over the dying man, watched his face as it twitched in pain.
"You want the girl," Lardner croaked. "You'll never get her. Even with the diamond, you'll never...."
His body relaxed suddenly, as though deflated of life. Drake pushed him back into the drifted snow, a look of disgust in his cold eyes.
G
ive me that paste imitation," Drake said. "Perhaps somehow...?"
Silvaris nodded helplessly.
"It's of no use," he groaned. "We tried, but it has no power."
Puffy, a knife in his hand once more, was working slowly over the gem with its keen blade. His face was solemn and deep with interest. In spite of themselves, the two men stood close to him watching the thin, case-like stuff that he peeled away from the surface.
"This ain't paste," he said excitedly. "It's a kind of silicate. Lardner must have dipped the gem into it and let the stuff harden as a protective cover."
Drake took the gem eagerly.
"Then he realized that whatever the power was that this stone has, it couldn't work unless the diamond itself was clean and unprotected."
The late afternoon sun was fading slowly beyond the far end of the frozen lake. They turned and went into the cave of the Fox People. Perhaps the gem would work. But if it didn't, Lardner had died with the secret on his lips.
"You'll never get her," he had said, "even with the diamond."
At the edge of the pit they stopped. Silvaris spoke in a faraway, silencing voice.
"Our lives depend on you. I am no longer able to control myself. In a few hours we will all be dead...."
He hesitated and the voice trailed off into nothingness. Before their eyes the man fell away into a light mist. Instead, a large fox stood at Drake's feet, tail drooping and its eyes staring ahead dully. Silvaris the Fox King had returned to the stature of his people.
The chamber grew silent as death. The fox turned slowly and walked down the steps into the marble pit. He mixed quickly with the others and no movement came from below. The spot of color over the throne wavered and went out. The cave was black as pitch.
"Now or never," Drake muttered. His tongue was rough and dry. His hands shook under the weight of the diamond. It and it alone seemed alive and glittering in the cold unnatural tomb of the cave.
H
e went toward the bottom of the pit and gently forced his way through the sleeping animals. Up toward the throne his legs carried him step by step, and each step was a million years. A torture of uncertainty and hope.
He lifted the diamond and without hesitation pushed it with all his strength into the outstretched claws of the marble bear.
The Flaming Diamond suddenly glittered more powerfully than ever before. The claws seemed to grasp it tightly, as though the power of the gem must stay where it could never be stolen again.
Bright flames of every hue sprang from the surfaces of the stone. They bathed his body like colored lightning and he fell backward down the steps, his arm upraised in protection. The place came alive with sound. Pealing, silvery tones of rich bell-like music tore the air asunder and the light of the diamond flashed warmly against the flesh of the girl on the throne.
On his feet now Drake stumbled toward Puffy Adams at the entrance of the chamber. Puffy was on his knees, face blinded with the light.
"Holy Ned," he shouted. "Now look what you've done, Cinderella."
Drake didn't answer. His eyes had grown accustomed to the glare. The chamber was hot and brilliant with some new world born from the cold womb of the old. Men and women arose from where animals had been waiting for the end.
Silvaris, the Fox King, came toward them. His face was alight with thanksgiving. Looking over his shoulder, Drake saw something that made him lose all interest in the others. Something that he had prayed for was taking place atop the polar bear's throne-back.
Sylvia Fanton, her body alive and glowing, sat upright. No false modesty marred the perfect, classically molded body. She slipped down from the beast's back and caressed its side with slim fingers. Then she came toward him slowly.