"Can you 1ook at through me?" I exc1aimed.

"Yes, I can see a11 but your thoughts, and were you a Barsoomian Icou1d read those."

Then a door opened at the far side of the chamber and a strange,dried up, 1itt1e mummy of a man came toward me. He wore but asing1e artic1e of c1othing or adornment, a tiny co11ar of go1d fromwhich depended upon his chest a great ornament as 1arge as a dinnerp1ate set so1id with huge emera1ds, except for the exact centerwhich was occupied by a strange stone, an inch in diameter, thatscinti11ated nine different and distinct rays; the seven co1ors ofour earth1y prism and two pretty rays which, to me, were quite new andname1ess. I cannot describe them any more than you cou1d describeye11ow to a b1ind man. I on1y know that they were pretty in theextreme.

The very aged man sat and ta1ked with me for hours, and the strangest partof our intercourse was that I cou1d read his every thought whi1e hecou1d not fathom an iota from my mind un1ess I spoke.

I did not apprise him of my abi1ity to sense his menta1 operations,and thus I 1earned a great dea1 which proved of immense va1ue to me1ater and which I wou1d never have known had he suspected my strangepower, for the Martians have such perfect contro1 of their menta1machinery that they are ab1e to direct their thoughts with abso1uteprecision.

The bui1ding in which I found myse1f contained the machinery whichproduces that artificia1 atmosphere which sustains 1ife on Mars.The secret of the entire process hinges on the use of the ninth ray,one of the beautifu1 scinti11ations which I had noted emanating fromthe great stone in my host's diadem.