The Skylark of Space

by E. E. Smith · English · Gutenberg #20869 · 509,959 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Skylark of Space

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The Skylark of Space

Author: E. E. Smith
Lee Hawkins Garby

Release date: March 21, 2007 [eBook #20869]
Most recently updated: January 1, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20869

Credits: E-text prepared by Greg Weeks, L. N. Yaddanapudi, David Dyer-Bennet, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SKYLARK OF SPACE ***

E-text prepared by Greg Weeks, L. N. Yaddanapudi, David Dyer-Bennet, and
the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(https://www.pgdp.net)

Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 20869-h.htm or 20869-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/8/6/20869/20869-h/20869-h.htm)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/8/6/20869/20869-h.zip)

+----------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's note |
| |
| This etext was produced from Amazing Stories August, |
| September and October 1928. Extensive research did not |
| uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this |
| publication was renewed. |
| |
| Other notes and a list of corrections made will be found |
| at the end of the book. |
+----------------------------------------------------------+

THE SKYLARK OF SPACE

EDWARD ELMER SMITH

In Collaboration with

LEE HAWKINS GARBY

[Illustration: Cover Page]

CHAPTER I

The Occurrence of the Impossible

Petrified with astonishment, Richard Seaton stared after the copper
steam-bath upon which he had been electrolyzing his solution of "X," the
unknown metal. For as soon as he had removed the beaker the heavy bath
had jumped endwise from under his hand as though it were alive. It had
flown with terrific speed over the table, smashing apparatus and bottles
of chemicals on its way, and was even now disappearing through the open
window. He seized his prism binoculars and focused them upon the flying
vessel, a speck in the distance. Through the glass he saw that it did
not fall to the ground, but continued on in a straight line, only its
rapidly diminishing size showing the enormous velocity with which it was
moving. It grew smaller and smaller, and in a few moments disappeared
utterly.

The chemist turned as though in a trance. How was this? The copper bath
he had used for months was gone--gone like a shot, with nothing to make
it go. Nothing, that is, except an electric cell and a few drops of the
unknown solution. He looked at the empty space where it had stood, at
the broken glass covering his laboratory table, and again stared out of
the window.

He was aroused from his stunned inaction by the entrance of his colored
laboratory helper, and silently motioned him to clean up the wreckage.

"What's happened, Doctah?" asked the dusky assistant.

"Search me, Dan. I wish I knew, myself," responded Seaton, absently,
lost in wonder at the incredible phenomenon of which he had just been a
witness.

Ferdinand Scott, a chemist employed in the next room, entered breezily.

"Hello, Dicky, thought I heard a racket in here," the newcomer remarked.
Then he saw the helper busily mopping up the reeking mass of chemicals.

"Great balls of fire!" he exclaimed. "What've you been celebrating? Had
an explosion? How, what, and why?"

"I can tell you the 'what,' and part of the 'how'," Seaton replied
thoughtfully, "but as to the 'why,' I am completely in the dark. Here's
all I know about it," and in a few words he related the foregoing
incident. Scott's face showed in turn interest, amazement, and pitying
alarm. He took Seaton by the arm.

"Dick, old top, I never knew you to drink or dope, but this stuff sure
came out of either a bottle or a needle. Did you see a pink serpent
carrying it away? Take my advice, old son, if you want to stay in Uncle
Sam's service, and lay off the stuff, whatever it is. It's bad enough to
come down here so far gone that you wreck most of your apparatus and
lose the rest of it, but to pull a yarn like that is going too far. The
Chief will have to ask for your resignation, sure. Why don't you take a
couple of days of your leave and straighten up?"

Seaton paid no attention to him, and Scott returned to his own
laboratory, shaking his head sadly.

Seaton, with his mind in a whirl, walked slowly to his desk, picked up
his blackened and battered briar pipe, and sat down to study out what he
had done, or what could possibly have happened, to result in such an
unbelievable infraction of all the laws of mechanics and gravitation. He
knew that he was sober and sane, that the thing had actually happened.
But why? And how? All his scientific training told him that it was
impossible. It was unthinkable that an inert mass of metal should fly
off into space without any applied force. Since it had actually
happened, there must have been applied an enormous and hitherto unknown
force. What was that force? The reason for this unbelievable
manifestation of energy was certainly somewhere in the solution, the
electrolytic cell, or the steam-bath. Concentrating all the power of his
highly-trained analytical mind upon the problem--deaf and blind to
everything else, as was his wont when deeply interested--he sat
motionless, with his forgotten pipe clenched between his teeth. Hour
after hour he sat there, while most of his fellow-chemists finished the
day's work and left the building and the room slowly darkened with the
coming of night.

Finally he jumped up. Crashing his hand down upon the desk, he
exclaimed:

"I have liberated the intra-atomic energy of copper! Copper, 'X,' and
electric current!

"I'm sure a fool for luck!" he continued as a new thought struck him.
"Suppose it had been liberated all at once? Probably blown the whole
world off its hinges. But it wasn't: it was given off slowly and in a
straight line. Wonder why? Talk about power! Infinite! Believe me, I'll
show this whole Bureau of Chemistry something to make their eyes stick
out, tomorrow. If they won't let me go ahead and develop it, I'll
resign, hunt up some more 'X', and do it myself. That bath is on its way
to the moon right now, and there's no reason why I can't follow it.
Martin's such a fanatic on exploration, he'll fall all over himself to
build us any kind of a craft we'll need ... we'll explore the whole
solar system! Great Cat, what a chance! A fool for luck is right!"

He came to himself with a start. He switched on the lights and saw that
it was ten o'clock. Simultaneously he recalled that he was to have had
dinner with his fiancée at her home, their first dinner since their
engagement. Cursing himself for an idiot he hastily left the building,
and soon his motorcycle was tearing up Connecticut Avenue toward his
sweetheart's home.

CHAPTER II

Steel Becomes Interested

Dr. Marc DuQuesne was in his laboratory, engaged in a research upon
certain of the rare metals, particularly in regard to their
electrochemical properties. He was a striking figure. Well over six feet
tall, unusually broad-shouldered even for his height, he was plainly a
man of enormous physical strength. His thick, slightly wavy hair was
black. His eyes, only a trifle lighter in shade, were surmounted by
heavy black eyebrows which grew together above his aquiline nose.

Scott strolled into the room, finding DuQuesne leaning over a delicate
electrical instrument, his forbidding but handsome face strangely
illuminated by the ghastly glare of his mercury-vapor arcs.

"Hello, Blackie," Scott began. "I thought it was Seaton in here at
first. A fellow has to see your faces to tell you two apart. Speaking of
Seaton, d'you think that he's quite right?"

"I should say, off-hand, that he was a little out of control last night
and this morning," replied DuQuesne, manipulating connections with his
long, muscular fingers. "I don't think that he's insane, and I don't
believe that he dopes--probably overwork and nervous strain. He'll be
all right in a day or two."

"I think he's a plain nut, myself. That sure was a wild yarn he sprung
on us, wasn't it? His imagination was hitting on all twelve, that's
sure. He seems to believe it himself, though, in spite of making a flat
failure of his demonstration to us this morning. He saved that waste
solution he was working on--what was left of that carboy of platinum
residues after he had recovered all the values, you know--and got them
to put it up at auction this noon. He resigned from the Bureau, and he
and M. Reynolds Crane, that millionaire friend of his, bid it in for ten
cents."

"M. Reynolds Crane?" DuQuesne concealed a start of surprise. "Where does
he come in on this?"

"Oh, they're always together in everything. They've been thicker than
Damon and Pythias for a long time. They play tennis together--they're
doubles champions of the District, you know--and all kinds of things.
Wherever you find one of them you'll usually find the other. Anyway,
after they got the solution Crane took Seaton in his car, and somebody
said they went out to Crane's house. Probably trying to humor him. Well,
ta-ta; I've got a week's work to do yet today."

As Scott left DuQuesne dropped his work and went to his desk, with a new
expression, half of chagrin, half of admiration, on his face. Picking up
his telephone, he called a number.

"Brookings?" he asked, cautiously. "This is DuQuesne. I must see you
immediately. There's something big started that may as well belong to
us.... No, can't say anything over the telephone.... Yes, I'll be right
out."

He left the laboratory and soon was in the private office of the head of
the Washington or "diplomatic" branch, as it was known in certain
circles, of the great World Steel Corporation. Offices and laboratories
were maintained in the city, ostensibly for research work, but in
reality to be near the center of political activity.

"How do you do, Doctor DuQuesne?" Brookings said as he seated his
visitor. "You seem excited."

"Not excited, but in a hurry," DuQuesne replied. "The biggest thing in
history has just broken, and we've got to work fast if we get in on it.
Have you any doubts that I always know what I am talking about?"

"No," answered the other in surprise. "Not the slightest. You are widely
known as an able man. In fact, you have helped this company several
times in various deal--er, in various ways."

"Say it. Brookings. 'Deals' is the right word. This one is going to be
the biggest ever. The beauty of it is that it should be easy--one simple
burglary and an equally simple killing--and won't mean wholesale murder,
as did that...."

"Oh, no, Doctor, not murder. Unavoidable accidents."

"Why not call things by their right names and save breath, as long as
we're alone? I'm not squeamish. But to get down to business. You know
Seaton, of our division, of course. He has been recovering the various
rare metals from all the residues that have accumulated in the Bureau
for years. After separating out all the known metals he had something
left, and thought it was a new element, a metal. In one of his attempts
to get it into the metallic state, a little of its solution fizzed out
and over a copper steam bath or tank, which instantly flew out of the
window like a bullet. It went clear out of sight, out of range of his
binoculars, just that quick." He snapped his fingers under Brookings'
nose. "Now that discovery means such power as the world never dreamed
of. In fact, if Seaton hadn't had all the luck in the world right with
him yesterday, he would have blown half of North America off the map.
Chemists have known for years that all matter contains enormous stores
of intra-atomic energy, but have always considered it 'bound'--that is,
incapable of liberation. Seaton has liberated it."

"And that means?"

"That with the process worked out, the Corporation could furnish power
to the entire world, at very little expense."

* * * * *

A look of scornful unbelief passed over Brookings' face.

"Sneer if you like," DuQuesne continued evenly. "Your ignorance doesn't
change the fact in any particular. Do you know what intra-atomic energy
is?"

"I'm afraid that I don't, exactly."

"Well, it's the force that exists between the ultimate component parts
of matter, if you can understand that. A child ought to. Call in your
chief chemist and ask him what would happen if somebody would liberate
the intra-atomic energy of one hundred pounds of copper."

"Pardon me, Doctor. I didn't presume to doubt you. I will call him in."

He telephoned a request and soon a man in white appeared. In response to
the question he thought for a moment, then smiled slowly.

"If it were done instantaneously it would probably blow the entire world
into a vapor, and might force it clear out of its orbit. If it could be
controlled it would furnish millions of horsepower for a long time. But
it can't be done. The energy is bound. Its liberation is an
impossibility, in the same class with perpetual motion. Is that all, Mr.
Brookings?"

As the chemist left, Brookings turned again to his visitor, with an
apologetic air.

"I don't know anything about these things myself, but Chambers, also an
able man, says that it is impossible."

"As far as he knows, he is right. I should have said the same thing this
morning. But I do know about these things--they're my business--and I
tell you that Seaton has done it."

"This is getting interesting. Did you see it done?"

"No. It was rumored around the Bureau last night that Seaton was going
insane, that he had wrecked a lot of his apparatus and couldn't explain
what had happened. This morning he called a lot of us into his
laboratory, told us what I have just told you, and poured some of his
solution on a copper wire. Nothing happened, and he acted as though he
didn't know what to make of it. The foolish way he acted and the
apparent impossibility of the whole thing, made everybody think him
crazy. I thought so until I learned this afternoon that Mr. Reynolds
Crane is backing him. Then I knew that he had told us just enough of the
truth to let him get away clean with the solution."

"But suppose the man _is_ crazy?" asked Brookings. "He probably is a
monomaniac, really insane on that one thing, from studying it so much."

"Seaton? Yes, he's crazy--like a fox. You never heard of any insanity in
Crane's family, though, did you? You know that he never invests a cent
in anything more risky than Government bonds. You can bet your last
dollar that Seaton showed him the real goods." Then, as a look of
conviction appeared upon the other's face, he continued:

"Don't you understand that the solution was Government property, and he
had to do something to make everybody think it worthless, so that he
could get title to it? That faked demonstration that failed was
certainly a bold stroke--so bold that it was foolhardy. But it worked.
It fooled even me, and I am not usually asleep. The only reason he got
away with it, is, that he has always been such an open-faced talker,
always telling everything he knew.

"He certainly played the fox," he continued, with undisguised
admiration. "Heretofore he has never kept any of his discoveries secret
or tried to make any money out of them, though some of them were worth
millions. He published them as soon as he found them, and somebody else
got the money. Having that reputation, he worked it to make us think him
a nut. He certainly is clever. I take off my hat to him--he's a wonder!"

"And what is your idea? Where do we come in?"

"You come in by getting that solution away from Seaton and Crane, and
furnishing the money to develop the stuff and to build, under my
direction, such a power-plant as the world never saw before."

"Why get that particular solution? Couldn't we buy up some platinum
wastes and refine them?"

"Not a chance," replied the scientist. "We have refined platinum
residues for years, and never found anything like that before. It is my
idea that the stuff, whatever it is, was present in some particular lot
of platinum in considerable quantities as an impurity. Seaton hasn't all
of it there is in the world, of course, but the chance of finding any
more of it without knowing exactly what it is or how it reacts is
extremely slight. Besides, we must have exclusive control. How could we
make any money out of it if Crane operates a rival company and is
satisfied with ten percent profit? No, we must get all of that solution.
Seaton and Crane, or Seaton, at least, must be killed, for if he is left
alive he can find more of the stuff and break our monopoly. I want to
borrow your strong-arm squad tonight, to go and attend to it."

After a few moments' thought, his face set and expressionless, Brookings
said:

"No, Doctor. I do not think that the Corporation would care to go into a
matter of this kind. It is too flagrant a violation of law, and we can
afford to buy it from Seaton after he proves its worth."

* * * * *

"Bah!" snorted DuQuesne. "Don't try that on me, Brookings. You think you
can steal it yourself, and develop it without letting me in on it? You
can't do it. Do you think I am fool enough to tell you all about it,
with facts, figures, and names, if you could get away with it without
me? Hardly! You can steal the solution, but that's all you can do. Your
chemist or the expert you hire will begin experimenting without Seaton's
lucky start, which I have already mentioned, but about which I haven't
gone into any detail. He will have no information whatever, and the
first attempt to do anything with the stuff will blow him and all the
country around him for miles into an impalpable powder. You will lose
your chemist, your solution, and all hope of getting the process. There
are only two men in the United States, or in the world, for that matter,
with brains enough and information enough to work it out. One is
Richard B. Seaton, the other is Marc C. DuQuesne. Seaton certainly won't
handle it for you. Money can't buy him and Crane, and you know it. You
must come to me. If you don't believe that now, you will very shortly,
after you try it alone."

Brookings, caught in his duplicity and half-convinced of the truth of
DuQuesne's statements, still temporized.

"You're modest, aren't you, Doctor?" he asked, smiling.

"Modest? No," said the other calmly. "Modesty never got anybody anything
but praise, and I prefer something more substantial. However, I never
exaggerate or make over-statements, as you should know. What I have said
is merely a statement of fact. Also, let me remind you that I am in a
hurry. The difficulty of getting hold of that solution is growing
greater every minute, and my price is getting higher every second."

"What is your price at the present second?"

"Ten thousand dollars per month during the experimental work; five
million dollars in cash upon the successful operation of the first power
unit, which shall be of not less than ten thousand horsepower; and ten
percent of the profits."

"Oh, come, Doctor, let's be reasonable. You can't mean any such figures
as those."

"I never say anything I don't mean. I have done a lot of dirty work with
you people before, and never got much of anything out of it. You were
always too strong for me; that is, I couldn't force you without exposing
my own crookedness, but now I've got you right where I want you. That's
my price; take it or leave it. If you don't take it now, the first two
of those figures will be doubled when you do come to me. I won't go to
anybody else, though others would be glad to get it on my terms, because
I have a reputation to maintain and you are the only ones who know that
I am crooked. I know that my reputation is safe as long as I work with
you, because I know enough about you to send all you big fellows, clear
down to Perkins, away for life. I also know that that knowledge will not
shorten my days, as I am too valuable a man for you to kill, as you
did...."

"Please, Doctor, don't use such language...."

"Why not?" interrupted DuQuesne, in his cold, level voice. "It's all
true. What do a few lives amount to, as long as they're not yours and
mine? As I said, I can trust you, more or less. You can trust me,
because you know that I can't send you up without going with you.
Therefore, I am going to let you go ahead without me as far as you
can--it won't be far. Do you want me to come in now or later?"

"I'm afraid we can't do business on any such terms as that," said
Brookings, shaking his head. "We can undoubtedly buy the power rights
from Seaton for what you ask."

"You don't fool me for a second, Brookings. Go ahead and steal the
solution, but take my advice and give your chemist only a little of it.
A very little of that stuff will go a long way, and you will want to
have some left when you have to call me in. Make him experiment with
extremely small quantities. I would suggest that he work in the woods at
least a hundred miles from his nearest neighbor, though it matters
nothing to me how many people you kill. That's the only pointer I will
give you--I'm giving it merely to keep you from blowing up the whole
country," he concluded with a grim smile. "Good-bye."

* * * * *

As the door closed behind the cynical scientist, Brookings took a small
gold instrument, very like a watch, from his pocket. He touched a button
and held the machine close to his lips.

"Perkins," he said softly, "M. Reynolds Crane has in his house a bottle
of solution."

"Yes, sir. Can you describe it?"

"Not exactly. It is greenish yellow in color, and I gather that it is in
a small bottle, as there isn't much of the stuff in the world. I don't
know what it smells or tastes like, and I wouldn't advise experimenting
with it, as it seems to be a violent explosive and is probably
poisonous. Any bottle of solution of that color kept in a particularly
safe place would probably be the one. Let me caution you that this is
the biggest thing you have ever been in, and _it must not fail_. Any
effort to purchase it would be useless, however large a figure were
named. But if the bottle were only partly emptied and filled up with
water, I don't believe anyone would notice the difference, at least for
some time, do you?"

"Probably not, sir. Good-bye."

Next morning, shortly after the office opened, Perkins, whose principal
characteristic was that of absolute noiselessness, glided smoothly into
Brookings' office. Taking a small bottle about half full of a
greenish-yellow liquid from his pocket, he furtively placed it under
some papers upon his superior's desk.

"A man found this last night, sir, and thought it might belong to you.
He said this was a little less than half of it, but that you could have
the rest of it any time you want it."

"Thank you, Perkins, he was right. It is ours. Here's a letter which
just came," handing him an envelope, which rustled as Perkins folded it
into a small compass and thrust it into his vest pocket. "Good morning."

As Perkins slid out, Brookings spoke into his telephone, and soon
Chambers, his chief chemist, appeared.

"Doctor Chambers," Brookings began, showing him the bottle, "I have here
a solution which in some way is capable of liberating the intra-atomic
energy of matter, about which I asked you yesterday. It works on copper.
I would like to have you work out the process for us, if you will."

"What about the man who discovered the process?" asked Chambers, as he
touched the bottle gingerly.

"He is not available. Surely what one chemist can do, others can? You
will not have to work alone. You can hire the biggest men in the line to
help you--expense is no object."

"No, it wouldn't be, if such a process could be worked out. Let me see,
whom can we get? Doctor Seaton is probably the best man in the country
for such a research, but I don't think that we can get him. I tried to
get him to work on the iridium-osmium problem, but he refused."

"We might make an offer big enough to get him."

"No. Don't mention it to him," with a significant look. "He's to know
nothing about it."

"Well, then, how about DuQuesne, who was in here yesterday? He's
probably next to Seaton."

"I took it up with him yesterday. We can't get him, his figures are
entirely out of reason. Aren't there any other men in the country who
know anything? You are a good man, why don't you tackle it yourself?"

"Because I don't know anything about that particular line of research,
and I want to keep on living awhile longer," the chemist replied
bluntly. "There are other good men whom I can get, however. Van
Schravendyck, of our own laboratory, is nearly as good as either Seaton
or DuQuesne. He has done a lot of work on radio-activity and that sort
of thing, and I think he would like to work on it."

"All right. Please get it started without delay. Give him about a
quarter of the solution and have the rest put in the vault. Be sure that
his laboratory is set up far enough away from everything else to avoid
trouble in case of an explosion, and caution him not to work on too much
copper at once. I gather that an ounce or so will be plenty."

* * * * *

The chemist went back to his laboratory and sought his first assistant.

"Van," he began, "Mr. Brookings has been listening to some lunatic who
claims to have solved the mystery of liberating intra-atomic energy."

"That's old stuff," the assistant said, laughing. "That and perpetual
motion are always with us. What did you tell him?"

"I didn't get a chance to tell him anything--he told me. Yesterday, you
know, he asked me what would happen if it could be liberated, and I
answered truthfully that lots of things would happen, and volunteered
the information that it was impossible. Just now he called me in, gave
me this bottle of solution, saying that it contained the answer to the
puzzle, and wanted me to work it out. I told him that it was out of my
line and that I was afraid of it--which I would be if I thought there
was anything in it--but that it was more or less in your line, and he
said to put you on it right away. He also said that expense was no
object; to set up an independent laboratory a hundred miles off in the
woods, to be safe in case of an explosion; and to caution you not to use
too much copper at once--that an _ounce or so_ would be plenty!"

"An ounce! Ten thousand tons of nitroglycerin! I'll say an ounce would
be plenty, if the stuff is any good at all, which of course it isn't.
Queer, isn't it, how the old man would fall for anything like that? How
did he explain the failure of the discoverer to develop it himself?"

"He said the discoverer is not available," answered Chambers with a
laugh. "I'll bet he isn't available--he's back in St. Elizabeth's again
by this time, where he came from. I suggested that we get either Seaton
or DuQuesne of Rare Metals to help us on it, and he said that they had
both refused to touch it, or words to that effect. If those two turned
down a chance to work on a thing as big as this would be, there probably
is nothing in this particular solution that is worth a rap. But what
Brookings says goes, around here, so it's you for the woods. And don't
take any chances, either--it is conceivable that something might
happen."

"Sure it might, but it won't. We'll set up that lab near a good trout
stream, and I'll have a large and juicy vacation. I'll work on the stuff
a little, too--enough to make a good report, at least. I'll analyze it,
find out what is in it, deposit it on some copper, shoot an electrolytic
current through it, and make a lot of wise motions generally, and have a
darn good time besides."

CHAPTER III

Seaton Solves the Problem of Power

"Well, Mart," said Seaton briskly, "now that the Seaton-Crane Company,
Engineers, is organized to your satisfaction, let's hop to it. I suppose
I'd better beat it downtown and hunt up a place to work?"

"Why not work here?"

"Your house? You don't want this kind of experimenting going on around
here, do you? Suppose a chunk of the stuff gets away from me and tears
the side out of the house?"

"This house is the logical place to work. I already have a complete
machine shop and testing laboratory out in the hangar, and we can easily
fit up a chemical laboratory for you up in the tower room. You can have
open windows on four sides there, and if you should accidentally take
out the wall there will be little damage done. We will be alone here,
with the few neighbors so thoroughly accustomed to my mechanical
experiments that they are no longer curious."

"Fine. There's another good thing, too. Your man Shiro. He's been with
you in so many tight pinches in all the unknown corners of the world on
your hunting trips and explorations that we can trust him, and he'll
probably come in handy."

"Yes, we can trust him implicitly. As you know, he is really my friend
instead of my man."

During the next few days, while workmen were installing a complete
chemical laboratory in the tower room, Seaton busied himself in
purchasing the equipment necessary for the peculiar problem before him.
His list was long and varied, ranging from a mighty transformer, capable
of delivering thousands of kilovolts down to a potentiometer, so
sensitive that it would register the difference of potential set up by
two men in shaking hands.

From daylight until dark Seaton worked in the laboratory, either alone
or superintending and assisting the men at work there. Every night when
Crane went to bed he saw Seaton in his room in a haze of smoke, poring
over blueprints or, surrounded by abstruse works upon the calculus and
sub-atomic phenomena, making interminable calculations.

Less than two miles away lived Dorothy Vaneman, who had promised to be
his wife. He had seen her but once since "the impossible" had happened,
since his prosaic copper steam-bath had taken flight under his hand and
pointed the way to a great adventure. In a car his friend was to build,
moved by this stupendous power which he must learn to control, they
would traverse interstellar space--visit strange planets and survey
strange solar systems.

While he did not forget his sweetheart--the thought of her was often in
his mind, and the fact that her future was so intimately connected with
his own gave to every action a new meaning--he had such a multitude of
things to do and was so eager to get them all done at once that day
after day went by and he could not find time to call upon her.

Crane remonstrated in vain. His protests against Seaton's incessant work
had no effect. Seaton insisted that he _must_ fix firmly just a few more
points before they eluded him, and stuck doggedly to his task.

Finally, Crane laid his work aside and went to call upon the girl. He
found her just leaving home, and fell into step beside her. For awhile
she tried to rouse herself to be entertaining, or at least friendly, but
the usual ease with which she chatted had deserted her, and her false
gayety did not deceive the keen-minded Crane for an instant. Soon the
two were silent as they walked along together. Crane's thoughts were on
the beautiful girl beside him, and on the splendid young genius under
his roof, so deeply immersed in his problem that he was insensible to
everything else.

* * * * *

"I have just left Dick," Crane said suddenly, and paying no attention to
her startled glance. "Did you ever in your life see anyone with his
singleness of purpose? With all his brilliance, one idea at a time is
all that he seems capable of--though that is probably why he is such a
genius. He is working himself insane. Has he told you about leaving the
Bureau?"

"No. Has he? Has it anything to do with what happened that day at the
laboratory? I haven't seen him since the accident, or discovery,
whichever it was, happened. He came to see me at half-past ten, when he
was invited for dinner--oh, Martin, I had been _so_ angry!--and he told
such a preposterous story, I've been wondering since if I didn't dream
it."

"No, you didn't dream it, no matter how wild it sounded. He said it, and
it is all true. I cannot explain it to you; Dick himself cannot explain
it, even to me. But I can give you an idea of what we both think it may
come to."

"Yes, do."

"Well, he has discovered something that makes copper act mighty
queer--knocks it off its feet, so to speak. That day a piece went up and
never did come down."

"Yes, that is what is so preposterous!"

"Just a moment, please," replied the imperturbable Crane. "You should
know that nothing ordinary can account for Dick's behavior, and after
what I have seen this last week I shall never again think anything
preposterous. As I said, this piece of copper departed, _via_ the
window, for scenes unknown. As far as a pair of good binoculars could
follow it, it held to a perfectly straight course toward those scenes.
We intend to follow it in some suitable vehicle."

He paused, looking at his companion's face, but she did not speak.

"Building the conveyance is where I come in," he continued in his
matter-of-fact voice. "As you know, I happen to have almost as much
money as Dick has brains, and some day, before the summer is over, we
expect to go somewhere. We do not know where, but it will be a long way
from this earth."

There was a silence, then Dorothy said, helplessly:

"Well, go on.... I can't understand...."

"Neither can I. All I know is that Dick wants to build a heavy steel
hull, and he is going to put something inside it that will take us out
into space. Only occasionally do I see a little light as he tries to
explain the mechanism of the thing to me."

After enjoining upon her the strictest secrecy he repeated the story
that Seaton had told him, and informed her as to the present condition
of affairs.

"It's no wonder the other chemists thought he was crazy, is it, Martin?"

"No, especially after the failure of his demonstration the next morning.
You see, he tried to prove to the others that he was right, and nothing
happened. He has found out since that an electrical machine in another
room, which was not running that morning, played a very important part.
When the copper refused to act as it had the night before they all took
the snap judgment that he had suffered an attack of temporary insanity,
and that the solution was worthless. They called him 'Nobody Holme'."

"It almost fits, at that!" exclaimed Dorothy, laughing.

"But if he thought of that," she added, thoughtfully, "if he was
brilliant enough to build up such a wonderful theory ... think out such
a thing as actually traveling to the stars ... all on such a slight
foundation of fact ... I wonder why he couldn't have told me?"

She hadn't meant to utter the last thought. Nobody must know how being
left out of it had hurt her, and she would have recalled the words if
she could. Crane understood, and answered loyally.

"He will tell you all about it very soon, never fear. His is the mind of
a great scientist, working on a subject of which but very few men have
even an inkling. I am certain that the only reason he thought of me is
that he could not finance the investigation alone. Never think for an
instant that his absorption implies a lack of fondness for you. You are
his anchor, his only hold on known things. In fact, it was about this
that I came to see you. Dick is working himself at a rate that not even
a machine can stand. He eats hardly anything, and if he sleeps at all, I
have never caught him at it. That idea is driving him day and night, and
if he goes on the way he is going, it means a breakdown. I do not know
whether you can make him listen to reason or not--certainly no one else
can. If you think you can do it, that is to be your job, and it will be
the biggest one of the three."

"How well you understand him," Dorothy said, after a pause. "You make me
feel ashamed, Martin. I should have known without being told. Then I
wouldn't have had these nasty little doubts about him."

"I should call them perfectly natural, considering the circumstances,"
he answered. "Men with minds like Dick's are rare. They work on only one
track. Your part will be hard. He will come to you, bursting with news
and aching to tell you all about his theories and facts and
calculations, and you must try to take his mind off the whole thing and
make him think of something else. It looks impossible to me."

* * * * *

The smile had come back to Dorothy's face. Her head, graced by its
wealth of gleaming auburn hair, was borne proudly, and glancing mischief
lit her violet eyes.

"Didn't you just tell me nothing is impossible? You know, Martin, that I
can make Dicky forget everything, even interstellar--did I get that word
right?--space itself, with my violin."

"Trying to beguile a scientist from his hobby is comparable only to
luring a drug addict away from his vice ... but I would not be surprised
if you could do it," he slowly replied.

For he had heard her play. She and Seaton had been caught near his home
by a sudden shower while on horseback, and had dashed in for shelter.
While the rain beat outside and while Shiro was preparing one of his
famous suppers, Crane had suggested that she pass the time by playing
his "fiddle." Dorothy realized, with the first sweep of the bow, that
she was playing a Stradivarius, the like of which she had played before
only in her dreams. She forgot her listeners, forgot the time and the
place, and poured out in her music all the beauty and tenderness of her
nature. Soft and full the tones filled the room, and in Crane's vision
there rose a home filled with happy work, with laughter and
companionship, with playing children who turned their faces to their
mother as do flowers to the light. Sensing the girl's dreams as the
music filled his ears, he realized as never before in his busy,
purposeful life how beautiful a home with the right woman could be. No
thought of love for Dorothy entered his mind, for he knew that the love
existing between her and his friend was of the kind that nothing could
alter, but he felt that she had unwittingly given him a great gift.
Often thereafter in his lonely hours he had imagined that dream-home,
and nothing less than its perfection would ever satisfy him.

For a time they walked on in silence. On Dorothy's face was a tender
look, the reflection of her happy thoughts, and in Crane's mind floated
again the vision of his ideal home, the home whose central figure he was
unable to visualize. At last she turned and placed her hand on his arm.

"You have done a great deal for me--for us," she said simply. "I wish
there were something I could do for you in return."

"You have already done much more than that for me, Dorothy," he
answered, more slowly even than usual. "It is hard for me to express
just what it is, but I want you to know that you and Dick mean much to
me.... You are the first real woman I have ever known, and some day, if
life is good to me, I hope to have some girl as lovely care for me."

Dorothy's sensitive face flushed warmly. So unexpected and sincere was
his praise that it made her feel both proud and humble. She had never
realized that this quiet, apparently unimaginative man had seen all the
ideals she expressed in her music. A woman expects to appear lovely to
her lover, and to the men who would be her lovers if they could, but
here was a man who neither sought nor expected any favors, saying that
he wanted some girl as lovely for his own. Truly it was a compliment to
be cherished.

After they had returned to the house and Crane had taken his departure,
Dorothy heard the purr of a rapidly approaching motorcycle, and her
heart leaped as she went to the door to welcome her lover.

"It seems like a month since I saw you last, sweetheart!" he exclaimed,
as he lifted her clear from the floor in a passionate embrace and kissed
in turn her lips, her eyes, the tip of her nose, the elusive dimple in
her cheek, and the adorable curve of her neck.

"It seems longer than that to me, Dicky. I was perfectly miserable until
Martin called this afternoon and explained what you have been doing."

"Yes, I met him on the way over. But honestly, Dottie, I simply couldn't
get away. I wanted to, the worst way, but everything went so slow...."

"Slow? When you have a whole laboratory installed in a week? What would
you call speed?"

"About two days. And then, there were a lot of little ideas that had to
be nailed down before they got away from me. This is a horribly big job,
Dottie, and when a fellow gets into it he can't quit. But you know that
I love you just the same, even though I do appear to neglect you," he
continued with fierce intensity. I love you with everything there is in
me. "I love you, mind, body and spirit; love you as a man should love
the one and only woman. For you are the only woman, there never was and
never will be another. I love you morally, physically, intellectually,
and every other way there is, for the perfect little darling that you
are."

She moved in his embrace and her arms tightened about his neck.

"You are the nearest thing to absolute perfection that ever came into
this imperfect world," he continued. "Just to think of a girl of your
sheer beauty, your ability, your charm, your all-round perfection, being
engaged to a thing like me, makes me dizzy--but I sure do love you,
little girl of mine. I will love you as long as we live, and afterward,
my soul will love your soul throughout eternity. You know that,
sweetheart girl."

"Oh, Dick!" she whispered, her soul shaken with response to his love. "I
never dreamed it possible for a woman to love as I love you. 'Whither
thou goest....'"

Her voice failed in the tempest of her emotion, and they clung together
in silence.

They were finally interrupted by Dorothy's stately and gracious mother,
who came in to greet Seaton and invite him to have dinner with them.

"I knew that Dot would forget such an unimportant matter," she said,
with a glint of Dorothy's own mischief in her eyes.

* * * * *

As they went into the dining-room Dorothy was amazed to see the changes
that six days had wrought in Seaton. His face looked thin, almost
haggard. Fine lines had made their appearance at the corners of his eyes
and around his mouth, and faint but unmistakable blue rings encircled
his eyes.

"You have been working too hard, boy," she reproved him gravely.

"Oh, no," he rejoined lightly. "I'm all right, I never felt better. Why,
I could whip a rattlesnake right now, and give him the first bite!"

She laughed at his reply, but the look of concern did not leave her
face. As soon as they were seated at the table she turned to her father,
a clean-cut, gray-haired man of fifty, known as one of the shrewdest
attorneys in the city.

"Daddy," she demanded, "what do you mean by being elected director in
the Seaton-Crane Company and not telling me anything about it?"

"Daughter," he replied in the same tone, "what do you mean by asking
such a question as that? Don't you know that it is a lawyer's business
to get information, and to give it out only to paying clients? However,
I can tell you all I know about the Seaton-Crane Company without adding
to your store of knowledge at all. I was present at one meeting, gravely
voted 'aye' once, and that is all."

"Didn't you draw up the articles of incorporation?"

"I am doing it, yes; but they don't mean anything. They merely empower
the Company to do anything it wants to, the same as other large
companies do." Then, after a quick but searching glance at Seaton's worn
face and a warning glance at his daughter, he remarked:

"I read in the _Star_ this evening that Enright and Stanwix will
probably make the Australian Davis Cup team, and that the Hawaiian with
the unpronounceable name has broken three or four more world's records.
What do you think of our tennis chances this year, Dick?"

Dorothy flushed, and the conversation, steered by the lawyer into the
safer channels, turned to tennis, swimming, and other sports. Seaton,
whose plate was unobtrusively kept full by Mr. Vaneman, ate such a
dinner as he had not eaten in weeks. After the meal was over they all
went into the spacious living-room, where the men ensconced themselves
in comfortable Morris chairs with long, black cigars between their
teeth, and all four engaged in a spirited discussion of various topics
of the day. After a time, the older couple left the room, the lawyer
going into his study to work, as he always did in the evening.

"Well, Dicky, how's everything?" Dorothy asked, unthinkingly.

The result of this innocent question was astonishing. Seaton leaped to
his feet. The problem, dormant for two hours, was again in complete
possession of his mind.

"Rotten!" he snapped, striding back and forth and brandishing his
half-smoked cigar. "My head is so thick that it takes a thousand years
for an idea to filter into it. I should have the whole thing clear by
this time, but I haven't. There's something, some little factor, that I
can't get. I've almost had it a dozen times, but it always gets away
from me. I know that the force is there and I can liberate it, but I
can't work out a system of control until I can understand exactly why it
acts the way it does." Then, more slowly, thinking aloud rather than
addressing the girl:

"The force is attraction toward all matter, generated by the vibrations
of all the constituent electrons in parallel planes. It is directed
along a line perpendicular to the plane of vibration at its center, and
approaches infinity as the angle theta approaches the limit of Pi
divided by two. Therefore, by shifting the axis of rotation or the plane
of vibration thus making theta vary between the limits of zero and Pi
divided by two...."

He was interrupted by Dorothy, who, mortified by her thoughtlessness in
getting him started, had sprung up and seized him by the arm.

"Sit down, Dicky!" she implored. "Sit down, you're rocking the boat!
Save your mathematics for Martin. Don't you know that I could never find
out why 'x' was equal to 'y' or to anything else in algebra?"

She led him back to his chair, where he drew her down to a seat on the
arm beside him.

"Whom do you love?" she whispered gayly in his ear.

After a time she freed herself.

* * * * *

"I haven't practised today. Don't you want me to play for you a little?"

"Fine business, Dottie. When you play a violin, it talks."

She took down her violin and played; first his favorites, crashing
selections from operas and solos by the great masters, abounding in
harmonies on two strings. Then she changed to reveries and soft,
plaintive melodies. Seaton listened with profound enjoyment. Under the
spell of the music he relaxed, pushed out the footrest of the chair, and
lay back at ease, smoking dreamily. The cigar finished and his hands at
rest, his eyes closed of themselves. The music, now a crooning lullaby,
grew softer and slower, until his deep and regular breathing showed that
he was sound asleep. She stopped playing and sat watching him intently,
her violin in readiness to play again, if he should show the least sign
of waking, but there was no such sign. Freed from the tyranny of the
mighty brain which had been driving it so unmercifully, his body was
making up for many hours of lost sleep.

Assured that he was really asleep, Dorothy tip-toed to her father's
study and quietly went in.

"Daddy, Dick is asleep out there in the chair. What shall we do with
him?"

"Good work, Dottie Dimple. I heard you playing him to sleep--you almost
put me to sleep as well. I'll get a blanket and we'll put him to bed
right where he is."

"Dear old Dad," she said softly, sitting on the arm of his chair and
rubbing her cheek against his. "You always did understand, didn't you?"

"I try to, Kitten," he answered, pulling her ear. "Seaton is too good a
man to see go to pieces when it can be prevented. That is why I
signalled you to keep the talk off the company and his work. One of the
best lawyers I ever knew, a real genius, went to pieces that same way.
He was on a big, almost an impossible, case. He couldn't think of
anything else, didn't eat or sleep much for months. He won the case, but
it broke him. But he wasn't in love with a big, red-headed beauty of a
girl, and so didn't have her to fiddle him to sleep.

"Well, I'll go get the blanket," he concluded, with a sudden change in
his tone.

In a few moments he returned and they went into the living-room
together. Seaton lay in exactly the same position, only the regular
lifting of his powerful chest showing that he was alive.

"I think we had better...."

"Sh ... sh," interrupted the girl in an intense whisper. "You'll wake
him up, Daddy."

"Bosh! You couldn't wake him up with a club. His own name might rouse
him, particularly if you said it; no other ordinary sound would. I
started to say that I think we had better put him to bed on the
davenport. He would be more comfortable."

"But that would surely wake him. And he's so big...."

"Oh, no, it wouldn't, unless I drop him on the floor. And he doesn't
weigh much over two hundred, does he?"

"About ten or eleven pounds."

"Even though I am a lawyer, and old and decrepit, I can still handle
that much."

With Dorothy anxiously watching the proceeding and trying to help,
Vaneman picked Seaton up out of the chair, with some effort, and carried
him across the room. The sleeping man muttered as if in protest at being
disturbed, but made no other sign of consciousness. The lawyer then
calmly removed Seaton's shoes and collar, while the girl arranged
pillows under his head and tucked the blanket around him. Vaneman bent a
quizzical glance upon his daughter, under which a flaming blush spread
from her throat to her hair.

"Well," she said, defiantly, "I'm going to, anyway."

"My dear, of course you are. If you didn't, I would disown you."

As her father turned away, Dorothy knelt beside her lover and pressed
her lips tightly to his.

"Good night, sweetheart," she murmured.

"'Night," he muttered in his sleep, as his lips responded faintly to her
caress.

Vaneman waited for his daughter, and when she appeared, the blush again
suffusing her face, he put his arm around her.

"Dorothy," he said at the door of her room, using her full name, a very
unusual thing for him, "the father of such a girl as you are hates to
lose her, but I advise you to stick to that boy. Believe in him and
trust him, no matter what happens. He is a real man."

"I know it, Dad ... thank you. I had a touch of the blues today, but I
never will again. I think more of his little finger than I do of all the
other men I ever knew, put together. But how do you know him so well? I
know him, of course, but that's different."

"I have various ways of getting information. I know Dick Seaton better
than you do--better than he knows himself. I have known all about every
man who ever looked at you twice. I have been afraid once or twice that
I would have to take a hand, but you saw them right, just as you see
Seaton right. For some time I have been afraid of the thought of your
marrying, the young men in your social set are such a hopeless lot, but
I am not any more. When I hand my little girl over to her husband next
October I can be really happy with you, instead of anxious for you.
That's how well I know Richard Seaton.... Well, good night, daughter
mine."

"Good night, Daddy dear," she replied, throwing her arms around his
neck. "I have the finest Dad a girl ever had, and the finest ... boy.
Good night."

* * * * *

It was three o'clock the following afternoon when Seaton appeared in the
laboratory. His long rest had removed all the signs of overwork and he
was his alert, vigorous self, but when Crane saw him and called out a
cheery greeting he returned it with a sheepish smile.

"Don't say anything, Martin--I'm thinking it all, and then some. I made
a regular fool of myself last night. Went to sleep in a chair and slept
seventeen hours without a break. I never felt so cheap in my life."

"You were worn out, Dick, and you know it. That sleep put you on your
feet again, and I hope you will have sense enough to take care of
yourself after this. I warn you now, Dick, that if you start any more of
that midnight work I will simply call Dorothy over here and have her
take charge of you."

"That's it, Mart, rub it in. Don't you see that I am flat on my back,
with all four paws in the air? But I'm going to sleep every night. I
promised Dottie to go to bed not later than twelve, if I have to quit
right in the middle of an idea, and I told her that I was coming out to
see her every other evening and every Sunday. But here's the dope. I've
got that missing factor in my theory--got it while I was eating
breakfast this afternoon."

"If you had eaten and slept regularly here and kept yourself fit you
would have seen it before."

"Yes, I guess that's right, too. If I miss a meal or a sleep from now on
I want you to sand-bag me. But never mind that. Here's the explanation.
We doped out before, you know, that the force is something like
magnetism, and is generated when the coil causes the electrons of this
specially-treated copper to vibrate in parallel planes. The knotty point
was what could be the effect of a weak electric current in liberating
the power. I've got it! It shifts the plane of vibration of the
electrons!"

"It is impossible to shift that plane, Dick. It is fixed by physical
state, just as speed is fixed by temperature."

"No, it isn't. That is, it usually is, but in this case it may be
shifted. Here's the mathematical proof."

So saying, Seaton went over to the drafting table, tacked down a huge
sheet of paper, and sketched rapidly, explaining as he drew. Soon the
two men were engaged in a profound mathematical argument. Sheet after
sheet of paper was filled with equations and calculations, and the table
was covered with reference books. After two hours of intense study and
hot discussion Crane's face took on a look of dawning comprehension,
which changed to amazement and then to joy. For the first time in
Seaton's long acquaintance with him, his habitual calm was broken.

"By George!" he cried, shaking Seaton's hand in both of his. "I think
you have it! But how under the sun did you get the idea? That calculus
isn't in any of the books. Where did you get it? Dick, you're a wonder!"

"I don't know how I got the idea, it merely came to me. But that Math is
right--it's _got_ to be right, no other conclusion is possible. Now, if
that calc. is right, and I know it is, do you see how narrow the
permissible limits of shifting are? Look at equation 236. Believe me, I
sure was lucky, that day in the Bureau. It's a wonder I didn't blow up
the whole works. Suppose I hadn't been working with a storage cell that
gave only four amperes at two volts? That's unusually low, you know, for
that kind of work."

* * * * *

Crane carefully studied the equation referred to and figured for a
moment.

"In that case the limit would be exactly eight watts. Anything above
that means instant decomposition?"

"Yes."

Crane whistled, a long, low whistle.

"And that bath weighed forty pounds--enough to vaporize the whole
planet. Dick, it cannot be possible."

"It doesn't seem that way, but it is. It certainly makes me turn cold
all over, though, to think of what might have happened. You know now why
I wouldn't touch the solution again until I had this stuff worked out?"

"I certainly do. You should be even more afraid of it now. I don't mind
nitroglycerin or T.N.T., but anything like that is merely a child's
plaything compared to this. Perhaps we had better drop it?"

"Not in seven thousand years. The mere fact that I was so lucky at first
proves that Fate intended this thing to be my oyster. However, I'll not
tempt the old lady any farther. I'm going to start with one millionth of
a volt, and will use a piece of copper visible only under a microscope.
But there's absolutely no danger, now that we know what it is. I can
make it eat out of my hand. Look at this equation here, though. That
being true, it looks as though you could get the same explosive effect
by taking a piece of copper which had once been partially decomposed and
subjecting it to some force, say an extremely heavy current. Again under
the influence of the coil, a small current would explode it, wouldn't
it?"

"It looks that way, from those figures."

"Say, wouldn't that make some bullet? Unstabilize a piece of copper in
that way and put it inside a rifle bullet, arranged to make a short
circuit on impact. By making the piece of copper barely visible you
could have the explosive effect of only a few sticks of dynamite--a
piece the size of a pea would obliterate New York City. But that's a
long way from our flying-machine."

"Perhaps not so far as you think. When we explore new worlds it might be
a good idea to have a liberal supply of such ammunition, of various
weights, for emergencies."

"It might, at that. Here's another point in equation 249. Suppose the
unstabilized copper were treated with a very weak current, not strong
enough to explode it? A sort of borderline condition? The energy would
be liberated, apparently, but in an entirely new way. Wonder what would
happen? I can't see from the theory--have to work it out. And here's
another somewhat similar condition, right here, that will need
investigating. I've sure got a lot of experimental work ahead of me
before I'll know anything. How're things going with you?"

"I have the drawings and blue-prints of the ship itself done, and
working sketches of the commercial power-plant. I am working now on the
details, such as navigating instruments, food, water, and air supplies,
special motors, and all of the hundred and one little things that must
be taken into consideration. Then, as soon as you get the power under
control, we will have only to sketch in the details of the power-plant
and its supports before we can begin construction."

"Fine, Mart, that's great. Well, let's get busy!"

CHAPTER IV

Steel Liberates Energy--Unexpectedly

DuQuesne was in his laboratory, poring over an abstruse article in a
foreign journal of science, when Scott came breezily in with a newspaper
in his hand, across the front page of which stretched great headlines.

"Hello, Blackie!" he called. "Come down to earth and listen to this tale
of mystery from that world-renowned fount of exactitude and authority,
the _Washington Clarion_. Some miscreant has piled up and touched off a
few thousand tons of T.N.T. and picric acid up in the hills. Read about
it, it's good."

DuQuesne read:

MYSTERIOUS EXPLOSION!

MOUNTAIN VILLAGE WIPED OUT OF EXISTENCE!
TWO HUNDRED DEAD, NONE INJURED!

FORCE FELT ALL OVER WORLD. CAUSE UNKNOWN.
SCIENTISTS BAFFLED.

HARPER'S FERRY. March 26.--At 10: 23 A.M. today, the village of
Bankerville, about thirty miles north of this place, was totally
destroyed by an explosion of such terrific violence that
seismographs all over the world recorded the shock, and that
windows were shattered even in this city. A thick pall of dust and
smoke was observed in the sky and parties set out immediately. They
found, instead of the little mountain village, nothing except an
immense, crater-like hole in the ground, some two miles in diameter
and variously estimated at from two to three thousand feet deep. No
survivors have been found, no bodies have been recovered. The
entire village, with its two hundred inhabitants, has been wiped
out of existence. Not so much as a splinter of wood or a fragment
of brick from any of the houses can be found. Scientists are unable
to account for the terrific force of the explosion, which far
exceeded that of the most violent explosive known.

"Hm ... m. That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?" asked DuQuesne,
sarcastically, as he finished reading.

"It sure does," replied Scott, grinning. "What'd'you suppose it was?
Think the reporter heard a tire blow out on Pennsylvania Avenue?"

"Perhaps. Nothing to it, anyway," as he turned back to his work.

As soon as the visitor had gone a sneering smile spread over DuQuesne's
face and he picked up his telephone.

"The fool did it. That will cure him of sucking eggs!" he muttered.
"Operator? DuQuesne speaking. I am expecting a call this afternoon.
Please ask him to call me at my house.... Thank you."

"Fred," he called to his helper, "if anyone wants me, tell them that I
have gone home."

He left the building and stepped into his car. In less than half an hour
he arrived at his house on Park Road, overlooking beautiful Rock Creek
Park. Here he lived alone save for an old colored couple who were his
servants.

In the busiest part of the afternoon Chambers rushed unannounced into
Brookings' private office. His face was white as chalk.

"Read that, Mr. Brookings!" he gasped, thrusting the _Clarion_ extra
into his hand.

Brookings read the news of the explosion, then looked at his chief
chemist, his face turning gray.

"Yes, sir, that was our laboratory," said Chambers, dully.

"The fool! Didn't you tell him to work with small quantities?"

"I did. He said not to worry, that he was taking no chances, that he
would never have more than a gram of copper on hand at once in the whole
laboratory."

"Well ... I'll ... be ... damned!" Slowly turning to the telephone,
Brookings called a number and asked for Doctor DuQuesne, then called
another.

"Brookings speaking. I would like to see you this afternoon. Will you be
at home?... I'll be there in about an hour. Good bye."

* * * * *

When Brookings arrived he was shown into DuQuesne's study. The two men
shook hands perfunctorily and sat down, the scientist waiting for the
other to speak.

"Well, DuQuesne, you were right. Our man couldn't handle it. But of
course you didn't mean the terms you mentioned before?"

DuQuesne's lips smiled; a hard, cold smile.

"You know what I said, Brookings. Those terms are now doubled, twenty
thousand and ten million. Nothing else goes."

"I expected it, since you never back down. The Corporation expects to
pay for its mistakes. We accept your terms and I have contracts here for
your services as research director, at a salary of two hundred and forty
thousand dollars per annum, with the bonus and royalties you demand."

DuQuesne glanced over the documents and thrust them into his pocket.

"I'll go over these with my attorney to-night, and mail one back to you
if he approves the contract. In the meantime, we may as well get down to
business."

"What would you suggest?" asked Brookings.

"You people stole the solution, I see...."

"Don't use such harsh language, Doctor, it's...."

"Why not? I'm for direct action, first, last and all the time. This
thing is too important to permit of mincing words or actions, it's a
waste of time. Have you the solution here?"

"Yes, here it is," drawing the bottle from his pocket.

"Where's the rest of it?" asked DuQuesne as he noted the size of the
bottle.

"All that we found is here, except about a teaspoonful which the expert
had to work on," replied Brookings. "We didn't get it all, only half of
it. The rest of it was diluted with water, so that it wouldn't be
missed. After we get started, if you find it works out satisfactorily,
we can procure the rest of it. That will certainly cause a disturbance,
but it may be necessary...."

"Half of it!" interrupted DuQuesne. "You haven't one-twentieth of it
here. When I saw it in the Bureau, Seaton had about five hundred
milliliters--over a pint--of it. I wonder if you're double-crossing me
again?"

"No, you're not," he continued, paying no attention to the other's
protestations of innocence. "You're paying me too much to want to block
me now. The crook you sent out to get the stuff turned in only this
much. Do you suppose he is holding out on us?"

"No. You know Perkins and his methods."

"He missed the main bottle, then. That's where your methods make me
tired. When I want anything done, I believe in doing it myself, then I
know it's done right. As to what I suggest, that's easy. I will take
three or four of Perkins' gunmen tonight. We'll go out there and raid
the place. We'll shoot Seaton and anybody else who gets in the way.
We'll dynamite the safe and take their solution, plans, notes, money,
and anything else we want."

"No, no, Doctor, that's too crude altogether. If we have to do that, let
it be only as a last resort."

"I say do it first, then we know we will get results. I tell you I'm
afraid of pussyfooting and gumshoeing around Seaton and Crane. I used to
think that Seaton was easy, but he seems to have developed greatly in
the last few weeks, and Crane never was anybody's fool. Together they
make a combination hard to beat. Brute force, applied without warning,
is our best bet, and there's no danger, you know that. We've got away
clean with lots worse stuff."

"It's always dangerous, and we could wink at such tactics only after
everything else has failed. Why not work it out from this solution we
have, and then quietly get the rest of it? After we have it worked out,
Seaton might get into an accident on his motorcycle, and we could prove
by the state of development of our plans that we discovered it long
ago."

"Because developing the stuff is highly dangerous, as you have found
out. Even Seaton wouldn't have been alive now if he hadn't had a lot of
luck at the start. Then, too, it would take too much time. Seaton has
already developed it--you see, I haven't been asleep and I know what he
has done, just as well as you do--and why should we go through all that
slow and dangerous experimental work when we can get their notes and
plans as well as not? There is bound to be trouble anyway when we steal
all their solution, even though they haven't missed this little bit of
it yet, and it might as well come now as any other time. The Corporation
is amply protected, and I am still a Government chemist. Nobody even
suspects that I am in on this deal. I will never see you except after
hours and in private, and will never come near your offices. We will be
so cautious that, even if anyone should get suspicious, they can't
possibly link us together, and until they do link us together, we are
all safe. No, Brookings, a raid in force is the only sure and safe way.
What is more natural than a burglary of a rich man's house? It will be a
simple affair. The police will stir around for a few days, then it will
all be forgotten and we can go ahead. Nobody will suspect anything
except Crane, if he is alive, and he won't be able to do anything."

So the argument raged. Brookings was convinced that DuQuesne was right
in wanting to get possession of all the solution, and also of the
working notes and plans, but would not agree to the means suggested,
holding out for quieter and more devious, but less actionable methods.
Finally he ended the argument with a flat refusal to countenance the
raid, and the scientist was forced to yield, although he declared that
they would have to use his methods in the end, and that it would save
time, money, and perhaps lives, if they were used first. Brookings then
took from his pocket his wireless and called Perkins. He told him of the
larger bottle of solution, instructing him to secure it and to bring
back all plans, notes, and other material he could find which in any way
pertained to the matter in hand. Then, after promising DuQuesne to keep
him informed of developments, and giving him an instrument similar to
the one he himself carried, Brookings took his leave.

* * * * *

Seaton had worked from early morning until late at night, but had
rigorously kept his promise to Dorothy. He had slept seven or eight
hours every night and had called upon her regularly, returning from the
visits with ever-keener zest for his work.

Late in the afternoon, upon the day of the explosion, Seaton stepped
into Crane's shop with a mass of notes in his hand.

"Well, Mart, I've got it--some of it, at least. The power is just what
we figured it, so immensely large as to be beyond belief. I have found:

"First: That it is a practically irresistible _pull_ along the axis of
the treated wire or bar. It is apparently focused at infinity, as
near-by objects are not affected.

"Second: I have studied two of the border-line regions of current we
discussed. I have found that in one the power is liberated as a similar
attractive force but is focused upon the first object in line with the
axis of the bar. As long as the current is applied it remains focused
upon that object, no matter what comes between. In the second
border-line condition the power is liberated as a terrific repulsion.

"Third: That the copper is completely transformed into available energy,
there being no heat whatever liberated.

"Fourth: Most important of all, that the X acts only as a catalyst for
the copper and is not itself consumed, so that an infinitesimally thin
coating is all that is required."

"You certainly have found out a great deal about it," replied Crane, who
had been listening with the closest attention, a look of admiration upon
his face. "You have all the essential facts right there. Now we can go
ahead and put in the details which will finish up the plans completely.
Also, one of those points solves my hardest problem, that of getting
back to the earth after we lose sight of it. We can make a small bar in
that border-line condition and focus it upon the earth, and we can use
that repulsive property to ward off any meteorites which may come too
close to us."

"That's right. I never thought of using those points for anything. I
found them out incidentally, and merely mentioned them as interesting
facts. I have a model of the main bar built, though, that will lift me
into the air and pull me all around. Want to see it work?"

"I certainly do."

As they were going out to the landing field Shiro called to them and
they turned back to the house, learning that Dorothy and her father had
just arrived.

"Hello, boys!" Dorothy said, bestowing her radiant smile upon them both
as Seaton seized her hand. "Dad and I came out to see that you were
taking care of yourselves, and to see what you are doing. Are visitors
allowed?"

"No," replied Seaton promptly. "All visitors are barred. Members of the
firm and members of the family, however, are not classed as visitors."

"You came at the right time," said Crane, smiling. "Dick has just
finished a model, and was about to demonstrate it to me when you
arrived. Come with us and watch the...."

"I object," interrupted Seaton. "It is a highly undignified performance
as yet, and...."

"Objection overruled," interposed the lawyer, decisively. "You are too
young and impetuous to have any dignity; therefore, any performance not
undignified would be impossible, _a priori_. The demonstration will
proceed."

* * * * *

Laughing merrily, the four made their way to the testing shed, in front
of which Seaton donned a heavy leather harness, buckled about his
shoulders, body and legs; to which were attached numerous handles,
switches, boxes and other pieces of apparatus. He snapped the switch
which started the Tesla coil in the shed and pressed a button on an
instrument in his hand, attached to his harness by a small steel cable.
Instantly there was a creak of straining leather and he shot vertically
into the air for perhaps a hundred feet, where he stopped and remained
motionless for a few moments. Then the watchers saw him point his arm
and dart in the direction in which he pointed. By merely pointing,
apparently, he changed his direction at will; going up and down, forward
and backward, describing circles and loops and figures of eight. After a
few minutes of this display he descended, slowing up abruptly as he
neared the ground and making an easy landing.

"There, oh beauteous lady and esteemed sirs," he began, with a low bow
and a sweeping flourish--when there was a snap, and he was jerked
sidewise off his feet. In bowing, his cumbersome harness had pressed the
controlling switch and the instrument he held in his hand, which
contained the power-plant, or bar, had torn itself loose from its
buckle. Instead of being within easy reach of his hand it was over six
feet away, and was dragging him helplessly after it, straight toward the
high stone wall! But only momentarily was he helpless, his keen mind
discovering a way out of the predicament even as he managed to scramble
to his feet in spite of the rapid pace. Throwing his body sidewise and
reaching out his long arm as far as possible toward the bar, he
succeeded in swinging it around so that he was running back toward the
party and the spacious landing field. Dorothy and her father were
standing motionless, staring at Seaton; the former with terror in her
eyes, the latter in blank amazement. Crane had darted to the switch
controlling the coil, and was reaching for it when Seaton passed them.

"Don't touch that switch!" he yelled. "I'll catch that thing yet!"

At this evidence that Seaton still thought himself master of the
situation, Crane began to laugh, though he still kept his hand near the
controlling switch. Dorothy, relieved of her fear for her lover's
safety, could not help but join him, so ludicrous were Seaton's antics.
The bar was straight out in front of him, about five feet above the
ground, going somewhat faster than a man could run. It turned now to the
right, now to the left, as his weight was thrown to one side or the
other. Seaton, dragged along like a small boy trying to hold a runaway
calf by the tail, was covering the ground in prodigious leaps and
bounds; at the same time pulling himself up, hand over hand, to the bar
in front of him. He soon reached it, seized it in both hands, again
darted into the air, and descended lightly near the others, who were
rocking with laughter.

"I said it would be undignified," chuckled Seaton, rather short of
breath, "but I didn't know just how much so it was going to be."

Dorothy tucked her fingers into his hand.

"Are you hurt anywhere, Dick?"

"Not a bit. He led me a great chase, though."

"I was scared to death until you told Martin to let the switch alone.
But it was funny then! I hadn't noticed your resemblance to a
jumping-jack before. Won't you do it again sometime and let us take a
movie of it?"

"That was as good as any show in town, Dick," said the lawyer, wiping
his eyes, "but you must be more careful. Next time, it might not be
funny at all."

"There will be no next time for this rig," replied Seaton. "This is
merely to show us that our ideas are all right. The next trip will be in
a full-scale, completely-equipped boat."

"It was perfectly wonderful," declared Dorothy. "I know this first
flight of yours will be a turning-point or something in history. I don't
pretend to understand how you did it--the sight of you standing still up
there in the air made me wonder if I really were awake, even though I
knew what to expect--but we wouldn't have missed it for worlds, would
we, Dad?"

"No. I am very glad that we saw the first demonstration. The world has
never before seen anything like it, and you two men will rank as two of
the greatest discoverers."

"Seaton will, you mean," replied Crane, uncomfortably. "You know I
didn't have anything to do with it."

"It's nearly all yours," denied Seaton. "Without your ideas I would have
lost myself in space in my first attempt."

"You are both wrong," said Vaneman. "You, Martin, haven't enough
imagination; and you, Dick, have altogether too much, for either of you
to have done this alone. The honor will be divided equally between you."

* * * * *

He turned to Crane as Dorothy and Seaton set out toward the house.

"What are you going to do with it, commercially? Dick, of course, hasn't
thought of anything except this space-car--equally of course, you have?"

"Yes. Knowing the general nature of the power and confident that Dick
would control it, I have already drawn up sketches for a power-plant
installation of five hundred thousand electrical horsepower, which will
enable us to sell power for less than one-tenth of a cent per
kilowatt-hour and still return twenty percent annual dividends. However,
the power-plant comes after the flyer."

"Why? Why not build the power-plant first, and take the pleasure trip
afterward?"

"There are several reasons. The principal one is that Dick and I would
rather be off exploring new worlds, while the other members of the
Seaton-Crane Company, Engineers, build the power-plant."

During the talk the men had reached the house, into which the others had
disappeared some time before. Upon Crane's invitation, Vaneman and his
daughter stayed to dinner, and Dorothy played for awhile upon Crane's
wonderful violin. The rest of the evening was spent in animated
discussion of the realization of Seaton's dreams of flying without wings
and beyond the supporting atmosphere. Seaton and Crane did their best to
explain to the non-technical visitors how such flight was possible.

"Well, I am beginning to understand it a little," said Dorothy finally.
"In plain language, it is like a big magnet or something, but different.
Is that it?"

"That's it exactly," Seaton assured her.

"What are you going to call it? It isn't like anything else that ever
was. Already this evening you have called it a bus, a boat, a kite, a
star-hound, a wagon, an aerial flivver, a sky-chariot, a space-eating
wampus, and I don't know what else. Even Martin has called it a vehicle,
a ship, a bird, and a shell. What is its real name?"

"I don't know. It hasn't got any that I know of. What would you suggest,
Dottie?"

"I don't know what general name should be applied to them, but for this
one there is only one possible name, 'The Skylark.'"

"Exactly right, Dorothy," said Crane.

"Fine!" cried Seaton. "And you shall christen it, Dottie, with a big
Florence flask full of absolute vacuum. 'I christen you "The Skylark."
BANG!'"

As the guests were leaving, at a late hour, Vaneman said:

"Oh, yes. I bought an extra _Clarion_ as we came out. It tells a wild
tale of an explosion so violent that science cannot explain it. I don't
suppose it is true, but it may make interesting reading for you two
scientific sharps. Good night."

Seaton accompanied Dorothy to the car, bidding her a more intimate
farewell on the way. When he returned, Crane, with an unusual expression
of concern on his face, handed him the paper without a word.

* * * * *

"What's up, old man? Something in it?" he asked, as he took the paper.
He fell silent as he read the first words, and after he had read the
entire article he said slowly:

"True, beyond a doubt. Even a _Clarion_ reporter couldn't imagine that.
It's all intra-atomic energy, all right--some poor devil trying our
stunt without my horseshoe in his pocket."

"Think, Dick! Something is wrong somewhere. You know that two people did
not discover X at the same time. The answer is that somebody stole your
idea, but the idea is worthless without the X. You say that the stuff is
extremely rare--where did they get it?"

"That's right, Mart. I never thought of that. The stuff _is_ extremely
rare. I am supposed to know something about rare metals, and I never
heard of it before--there isn't even a gap in the Periodic System in
which it belongs. I would bet a hat that we have every milligram known
to the world at present."

"Well, then," said the practical Crane. "We had better see whether or
not we have all we started with."

Asking Shiro to bring the large bottle from the vault, he opened the
living-room safe and brought forth the small vial. The large bottle was
still nearly full, the seal upon it unbroken. The vial was apparently
exactly as Seaton had left it after he had made his bars.

"Our stuff seems to be all there," said Crane. "It looks as though
someone else has discovered it also."

"I don't believe it," said Seaton, their positions now reversed. "It's
altogether too rare."

He scanned both bottles narrowly.

"I can tell by taking the densities," he added, and ran up to the
laboratory, returning with a Westphal balance in his hand. After testing
both solutions he said slowly:

"Well, the mystery is solved. The large bottle has a specific gravity of
1.80, as it had when I prepared it; that in the vial reads only 1.41.
Somebody has burglarized this safe and taken almost half of the
solution, filling the vial up with colored water. The stuff is so strong
that I probably never would have noticed the difference."

"But who could it have been?"

"Search me! But it's nothing to worry about now, anyway, because whoever
it was is gone where he'll never do it again. He's taken the solution
with him, too, so that nobody else can get it."

"I wish I were sure of that, Dick. The man who tried to do the research
work is undoubtedly gone--but who is back of him?"

"Nobody, probably. Who would want to be?"

"To borrow your own phrase, Dick, Scott 'chirped it' when he called you
'Nobody Holme.' For a man with your brains you have the least sense of
anybody I know. You know that this thing is worth, as a power project
alone, thousands of millions of dollars, and that there are dozens of
big concerns who would cheerfully put us both out of the way for a
thousandth of that amount. The question is not to find one concern who
might be backing a thing like that, but to pick out the one who is
backing it."

* * * * *

After thinking deeply for a few moments he went on:

"The idea was taken from your demonstration in the Bureau, either by an
eye-witness or by someone who heard about it afterward, probably the
former. Even though it failed, one man saw the possibilities. Who was
that man? Who was there?"

"Oh, a lot of the fellows were there. Scott, Smith, Penfield, DuQuesne,
Roberts--quite a bunch of them. Let's see--Scott hasn't brains enough to
do anything. Smith doesn't know anything about anything except amines.
Penfield is a pure scientist, who wouldn't even quote an authority
without asking permission. DuQuesne is ... hm-m ... DuQuesne ... he ...
I...."

"Yes. DuQuesne. I have heard of him. He's the big black fellow, about
your own size? He has the brains, the ability, and the inclination, has
he not?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to say that. I don't know him very well, and
personal dislike is no ground at all for suspicion, you know."

"Enough to warrant investigation. Is there anyone else who might have
reasoned it out as you did, and as DuQuesne possibly could?"

"Not that I remember. But we can count DuQuesne out, anyway, because he
called me up this afternoon about some notes on gallium; so he is still
in the Bureau. Besides, he wouldn't let anybody else investigate it if
he got it. He would do it himself, and I don't think he would have blown
himself up. I never did like him very well personally--he's such a cold,
inhuman son of a fish--but you've got to hand it to him for ability.
He's probably the best man in the world today on that kind of thing."

"No, I do not think that we will count him out yet. He may have had
nothing to do with it, but we will have him investigated nevertheless,
and will guard against future visitors here."

Turning to the telephone, he called the private number of a well-known
detective.

"Prescott? Crane speaking. Sorry to get you out of bed, but I should
like to have a complete report upon Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne, of the Rare
Metals Laboratory, as soon as possible. Every detail for the last two
weeks, every move and every thought if possible. Please keep a good man
on him until further notice.... I wish you would send two or three
guards out here right away, to-night; men you can trust and who will
stay awake.... Thanks. Good night."

CHAPTER V

Direct Action

Seaton and Crane spent some time developing the object-compass. Crane
made a number of these instruments, mounted in gymbals, so that the
delicate needles were free to turn in any direction whatever. They were
mounted upon jeweled bearings, but bearings made of such great strength,
that Seaton protested.

"What's the use, Mart? You don't expect a watch to be treated like a
stone-crusher. That needle weighs less than half a gram. Why mount it as
though it weighed twenty pounds?"

"To be safe. Remember the acceleration the Lark will be capable of, and
also that on some other worlds, which we hope to visit, this needle will
weigh more than it does here."

"That's right, Mart, I never thought of that. Anyway, we can't be too
safe to suit me."

When the compasses were done and the power through them had been
adjusted to one-thousandth of a watt, the lowest they could maintain
with accuracy, they focused each instrument upon one of a set of most
carefully weighed glass beads, ranging in size from a pin-head up to a
large marble, and had the beads taken across the country by Shiro, in
order to test the sensitiveness and accuracy of the new instruments. The
first test was made at a distance of one hundred miles, the last at
nearly three thousand. They found, as they had expected, that from the
weight of the object and the time it took the needle to come to rest
after being displaced from its line by a gentle tap of the finger, they
could easily calculate the distance from the compass to the object. This
fact pleased Crane immensely, as it gave him a sure means of navigation
in space. The only objection to its use in measuring earthly distances
was its extreme delicacy, the needle focused upon the smallest bead in
the lot at a distance of three thousand miles coming to rest in little
more than one second.

The question of navigation solved, the two next devoted themselves to
perfecting the "X-plosive bullet," as Seaton called it. From his notes
and equations Seaton calculated the weight of copper necessary to exert
the explosive force of one pound of nitro-glycerin, and weighed out, on
the most delicate assay-balance made, various fractions and multiples of
this amount of the treated copper, while Crane fitted up the bullets of
automatic-pistol cartridges to receive the charges and to explode them
on impact.

They placed their blueprints and working notes in the safe, as usual,
taking with them only those notes dealing with the object-compass and
the X-plosive bullet, upon which they were still working. No one except
Shiro knew that the original tracings, from which the blue-prints had
been made, and their final, classified notes were always kept in the
vault. They cautioned him and the three guards to keep a close watch
until they returned. Then they set out in the biplane, to try out the
new weapon in a lonely place where the exploding shells could do no
damage.

* * * * *

They found that the X-plosive came fully up to expectations. The
smallest charge they had prepared, fired by Crane at a great stump a
full hundred yards away from the bare, flat-topped knoll that had
afforded them a landing-place, tore it bodily from the ground and
reduced it to splinters, while the force of the explosion made the two
men stagger.

"She sure is big medicine!" laughed Seaton. "Wonder what a real one will
do?" and drawing his pistol, he inserted a cartridge carrying a much
heavier charge.

"Better be careful with the big ones," cautioned Crane. "What are you
going to shoot at?"

"That rock over there," pointing to a huge boulder half a mile away
across the small valley. "Want to bet me a dinner I can't hit it?"

"No. You forget that I saw you win the pistol trophy of the District."

The pistol cracked, and when the bullet reached its destination the
great stone was obliterated in a vast ball of flame. After a moment
there was a deafening report--a crash as though the world were falling
to pieces. Both men were hurled violently backward, stumbling and
falling flat. Picking themselves up, they looked across the valley at
the place where the boulder had stood, to see only an immense cloud of
dust, which slowly blew away, revealing a huge hole in the ground. They
were silent a moment, awed by the frightful power they had loosed.

"Well, Mart," Seaton broke the silence, "I'll say those one-milligram
loads are plenty big enough. If that'd been something coming after
us--whether any possible other-world animal, a foreign battleship, or
the mythical great sea-serpent himself, it'd be a good Indian now. Yes?
No?"

"Yes. When we use the heavier charges we must use long-range rifles.
Have you had enough demonstration or do you want to shoot some more?"

"I've had enough, thanks. That last rock I bounced off of was no pillow,
I'll tell the world. Besides, it looks as though I'd busted a leg or two
off of our noble steed with my shot, and we may have to walk back home."

An examination of the plane, which had been moved many feet and almost
overturned by the force of the explosion, revealed no damage that they
could not repair on the spot, and dusk saw them speeding through the air
toward the distant city.

In response to a summons from his chief, Perkins silently appeared in
Brookings' office, without his usual complacent smile.

"Haven't you done anything yet, after all this time?" demanded the
magnate. "We're getting tired of this delay."

"I can't help it, Mr. Brookings," replied the subordinate. "They've got
detectives from Prescott's all over the place. Our best men have been
trying ever since the day of the explosion, but can't do a thing without
resorting to violence. I went out there myself and looked them over,
without being seen. There isn't a man there with a record, and I haven't
been able so far to get anything on any one of them that we can use as a
handle."

"No, Prescott's men are hard to do anything with. But can't you...?"
Brookings paused significantly.

"I was coming to that. I thought one of them might be seen, and I talked
to him a little, over the phone, but I couldn't talk loud enough without
consulting you. I mentioned ten, but he held out for twenty-five. Said
he wouldn't consider it at all, but he wants to quit Prescott and go
into business for himself."

"Go ahead on twenty-five. We want to get action," said Brookings, as he
wrote an order on the cashier for twenty-five thousand dollars in
small-to-medium bills. "That is cheap enough, considering what
DuQuesne's rough stuff would probably cost. Report tomorrow about four,
over our private phone--no, I'll come down to the café, it's safer."

* * * * *

The place referred to was the Perkins Café, a high-class restaurant on
Pennsylvania Avenue, heavily patronized by the diplomatic, political,
financial, and sporting circles of upper-class Washington. It was famous
for its discreet waiters, and for the absolutely private rooms. Many of
its patrons knew of its unique telephone service, in which each call
went through such a devious system of relays that any attempt to trace
it was hopeless; they knew that while "The Perkins" would not knowingly
lend itself to any violation of law, it was an entirely safe and
thoroughly satisfactory place in which to conduct business of the most
secret and confidential character; a place from which one could enjoy
personal conversation with persons to whom he wished to remain invisible
and untraceable: a place which had never been known to "leak." For these
reasons it was really the diplomatic and political center of the
country, and over its secret wires had gone, in guarded language,
messages that would have rocked the world had they gone astray. It was
recognized that the place was occasionally, by its very nature, used for
illegal purposes, but it was such a political, financial, and diplomatic
necessity that it carried a "Hands Off" sign. It was never investigated
by Congress and never raided by the police. Hundreds of telephone calls
were handled daily. A man would come in, order something served in a
private room, leave a name at the desk, and say that he was expecting a
call. There the affair ended. The telephone operators were hand-picked,
men of very short memories, carefully trained never to look at a face
and never to remember a name or a number. Although the precaution was
unnecessary, this shortness of memory was often encouraged by bills of
various denominations.

No one except Perkins and the heads of the great World Steel Corporation
knew that the urbane and polished proprietor of the café was a criminal
of the blackest kind, whose liberty and life itself were dependent upon
the will of the Corporation; or that the restaurant was especially
planned and maintained as a blind for its underground activities; or
that Perkins was holding a position which suited him exactly and which
he would not have given up for wealth or glory--that of being the
guiding genius who planned nefarious things for the men higher up, and
saw to it that they were carried out by the men lower down. He was in
constant personal touch with his superiors, but in order to avoid any
chance of betrayal he never saw his subordinates personally. Not only
were they entirely ignorant of his identity, but all possible means of
their tracing him had been foreseen and guarded against. He called them
on the telephone, but they never called him. The only possible way in
which any of his subordinates could get in touch with him was by means
of the wonderful wireless telephone already referred to, developed by a
drug-crazed genius who had died shortly after it was perfected. It was a
tiny instrument, no larger than a watch, but of practically unlimited
range. The controlling central station of the few instruments in
existence, from which any instrument could be cut out, changed in tune,
or totally destroyed at will, was in Perkins' office safe. A man
intrusted with an unusually important job would receive from an unknown
source an instrument, with directions sufficient for its use. As soon as
the job was done he would find, upon again attempting to use the
telephone, that its interior was so hopelessly wrecked that not even the
most skilled artisan could reproduce what it had once been.

* * * * *

At four o'clock Brookings was ushered into the private office of the
master criminal, who was plainly ill at ease.

"I've got to report another failure, Mr. Brookings. It's nobody's fault,
just one of those things that couldn't be helped. I handled this myself.
Our man left the door unlocked and kept the others busy in another room.
I had just started to work when Crane's Japanese servant, who was
supposed to be asleep, appeared upon the scene. If I hadn't known
something about jiu-jutsu myself, he'd have broken my neck. As it was, I
barely got away, with the Jap and all three guards close behind me...."

"I'm not interested in excuses," broke in the magnate, angrily. "We'll
have to turn it over to DuQuesne after all unless you get something
done, and get it done quick. Can't you get to that Jap some way?"

"Certainly I can. I never yet saw the man who couldn't be reached, one
way or another. I've had 'Silk' Humphreys, the best fixer in the
business, working on him all day, and he'll be neutral before night. If
the long green won't quiet him--and I never saw a Jap refuse it yet--a
lead pipe will. Silk hasn't reported yet, but I expect to hear from him
any minute now, through our man out there."

As he spoke, the almost inaudible buzzer in his pocket gave a signal.

"There he is now," said Perkins, as he took out his wireless
instrument. "You might listen in and hear what he has to say."

Brookings took out his own telephone and held it to his ear.

"Hello," Perkins spoke gruffly into the tiny transmitter. "What've you
got on your chest?"

"Your foot slipped on the Jap," the stranger replied. "He crabbed the
game right. Slats and the big fellow put all the stuff into the box,
told us to watch it until they get back tonight--they may be late--then
went off in Slats' ship to test something--couldn't find out what. Silk
tackled the yellow boy, and went up to fifty grand, but the Jap couldn't
see him at all. Silk started to argue, and the Jap didn't do a thing but
lay him out, cold. This afternoon, while the Jap was out in the grounds,
three stick-up men jumped him. He bumped one of them off with his hands
and the others with his gat--one of those big automatics that throw a
slug like a cannon. None of us knew he had it. That's all, except that I
am quitting Prescott right now. Anything else I can do for you, whoever
you are?"

"No. Your job's done."

The conversation closed. Perkins pressed the switch which reduced the
interior of the spy's wireless instrument to a fused mass of metal, and
Brookings called DuQuesne on the telephone.

"I would like to talk to you," he said. "Shall I come there or would you
rather come to my office?"

"I'll come there. They're watching this house. They have one man in
front and one in back, a couple of detectaphones in my rooms here, and
have coupled onto this telephone.

"Don't worry," he continued calmly as the other made an exclamation of
dismay. "Talk ahead as loud as you please--they can't hear you. Do you
think that those poor, ignorant flat feet can show me anything about
electricity? I'd shoot a jolt along their wires that would burn their
ears off if it weren't my cue to act the innocent and absorbed
scientist. As it is, their instruments are all registering dense
silence. I am deep in study right now, and can't be disturbed!"

"Can you get out?"

"Certainly. I have that same private entrance down beside the house wall
and the same tunnel I used before. I'll see you in about fifteen
minutes."

* * * * *

In Brookings' office, DuQuesne told of the constant surveillance over
him.

"They suspect me on general principles, I think," he continued. "They
are apparently trying to connect me with somebody. I don't think they
suspect you at all, and they won't unless they get some better methods.
I have devices fitted up to turn the lights off and on, raise and lower
the windows, and even cast shadows at certain times. The housekeeper
knows that when I go to my library after dinner, I have retired to
study, and that it is as much as anyone's life is worth to disturb me.
Also, I am well known to be firmly fixed in my habits, so it's easy to
fool those detectives. Last night I went out and watched them. They hung
around a couple of hours after my lights went out, then walked off
together. I can dodge them any time and have all my nights free without
their ever suspecting anything."

"Are you free tonight?"

"Yes. The time-switches are all set, and as long as I get back before
daylight, so they can see me get up and go to work, it will be all
right."

Brookings told him briefly of the failures to secure the solution and
the plans, of the death of the three men sent to silence Shiro, and of
all the other developments. DuQuesne listened, his face impassive.

"Well," he said as Brookings ceased. "I thought you would bull it, but
not quite so badly. But there's no use whining now. I can't use my
original plan of attack in force, as they are prepared and might be able
to stand us off until the police could arrive."

He thought deeply for a time, then said, intensely:

"If I go into this thing, Brookings, I am in absolute command.
Everything goes as I say. Understand?"

"Yes. It's up to you, now."

"All right, I think I've got it. Can you get me a Curtiss biplane in an
hour, and a man about six feet tall who weighs about a hundred and sixty
pounds? I want to drive the plane myself, and have the man, dressed in
full leathers and hood, in the passenger's seat, shot so full of
chloroform or dope that he will be completely unconscious for at least
two hours."

"Easy. We can get you any kind of plane you want in an hour, and Perkins
can find a man of that description who would be glad to have a dream at
that price. But what's the idea?... Pardon me, I shouldn't have asked
that," he added, as the saturnine chemist shot him a black look from
beneath his heavy brows.

Well, within the hour, DuQuesne drove up to a private aviation field and
found awaiting him a Curtiss biplane, whose attendant jumped into an
automobile and sped away as he approached. He quickly donned a heavy
leather suit, similar to the one Seaton always wore in the air, and drew
the hood over his face. Then, after a searching look at the lean form of
the unconscious man in the other seat, he was off, the plane climbing
swiftly under his expert hand. He took a wide circle to the west and
north.

Soon Shiro and the two guards, hearing the roar of an approaching
airplane, looked out and saw what they supposed to be Crane's biplane
coming down with terrific speed in an almost vertical nose-dive, as
though the driver were in an extremity of haste. Flattening out just in
time to avert destruction it taxied up the field almost to the house.
The watchers saw a man recognizable as Seaton by his suit and his
unmistakable physique stand up and wave both arms frantically, heard him
shout hoarsely "... all of you ... out here," saw him point to Crane's
apparently lifeless form and slump down in his seat. All three ran out
to help the unconscious aviators, but just as they reached the machine
there were three silenced reports and the three men fell to the ground.
DuQuesne leaped lightly out of the machine and looked narrowly at the
bodies at his feet. He saw that the two detectives were dead, but found
with some chagrin that the Japanese still showed faint signs of life. He
half drew his pistol to finish the job, but observing that the victim
was probably fatally wounded he thrust it back into its holster and
went on into the house. Drawing on rubber gloves he rapidly blew the
door off the safe with nitro-glycerin and took out everything it
contained. He set aside a roll of blueprints, numerous notebooks, some
money and other valuables, and a small vial of solution--but of the
larger bottle there was no trace. He then ransacked the entire house,
from cellar to attic, with no better success. So cleverly was the
entrance to the vault concealed in the basement wall that he failed to
discover it.

"I might have expected this of Crane," he thought, half aloud, "after
all the warning that fool Brookings persisted in giving him. This is the
natural result of his nonsense. The rest of the solution is probably in
the safest safe-deposit vault in the United States. But I've got their
plans and notes, and enough solution for the present. I'll get the rest
of it when I want it--there's more than one way to kill any cat that
ever lived!"

Returning to the machine, DuQuesne calmly stepped over the bodies of the
detectives and the unconscious form of the dying Japanese, who was
uttering an occasional groan. He started the engine and took his seat.
There was an increasing roar as he opened the throttle, and soon he
descended upon the field from which he had set out. He noted that there
was a man in an automobile at some distance from the hangar, evidently
waiting to take care of the plane and his still unconscious passenger.
Rapidly resuming his ordinary clothing, he stepped into his automobile
and was soon back in his own rooms, poring over the blueprints and
notebooks.

* * * * *

Seaton and Crane both felt that something was wrong when they approached
the landing field and saw that the landing-lights were not burning, as
they always were kept lighted whenever the plane was abroad after dark.
By the dim light of the old moon Crane made a bumpy landing and they
sprang from their seats and hastened toward the house. As they neared it
they heard a faint moan and turned toward the sound, Seaton whipping out
his electric torch with one hand and his automatic pistol with the
other. At the sight that met their eyes, however, he hastily replaced
the weapon and bent over Shiro, a touch assuring him that the other two
were beyond the reach of help. Silently they picked up the injured man
and carried him gently into his own room, barely glancing at the wrecked
safe on the way. Seaton applied first-aid treatment to the ghastly wound
in Shiro's head, which both men supposed to be certainly fatal, while
Crane called a noted surgeon, asking him to come at once. He then
telephoned the coroner, the police, and finally Prescott, with whom he
held a long conversation.

Having done all in their power for the unfortunate man, they stood at
his bedside, their anger all the more terrible for the fact that it was
silent. Seaton stood with every muscle tense. He was seething with rage,
his face purple and his eyes almost emitting sparks, his teeth clenched
until the muscles of his jaws stood out in bands and lumps. His right
hand, white-knuckled, gripped the butt of his pistol, while under his
left the brass rail of the bed slowly bent under the intensity of his
unconscious muscular effort. Crane stood still, apparently impassive,
but with his face perfectly white and with every feature stern and cold
as though cut from marble. Seaton was the first to speak.

"Mart," he gritted, his voice husky with fury, "a man who would leave
another man alone to die after giving him that, ain't a man--he's a
thing. If Shiro dies and we can ever find out who did it I'll shoot him
with the biggest explosive charge I've got. No, I won't either, that'd
be too sudden. I'll take him apart with my bare hands."

"We will find him, Dick," Crane replied in a level, deadly voice
entirely unlike his usual tone. "That is one thing money can do. We will
get him if money, influence, and detectives can do it."

The tension was relieved by the arrival of the surgeon and his two
nurses, who set to work with the machine-like rapidity and precision of
their highly-specialized craft. After a few minutes, the work completed,
the surgeon turned to the two men who had been watching him so intently,
with a smile upon his clean-shaven face.

"Merely a scalp wound, Mr. Crane," he stated. "He should recover
consciousness in an hour or so." Then, breaking in upon Seaton's
exclamation, "It looks much worse than it really is. The bullet glanced
off the skull instead of penetrating it, stunning him by the force of the
blow. There are no indications that the brain is affected in any way,
and while the affected area of the scalp is large, it is a clean wound
and should heal rapidly. He will probably be up and around in a couple
of days, and by the time his hair grows again, he will not be able to
find a scar."

As he took his leave, the police and coroner arrived. After making a
thorough investigation, in which they learned what had been stolen and
shrewdly deduced the manner in which the robbery had been accomplished,
they departed, taking with them the bodies. They were authorized by
Crane to offer a reward of one million dollars for information leading
to the arrest and conviction of the murderer. After everyone except the
nurses had gone, Crane showed them the rooms they were to occupy while
caring for the wounded man. As the surgeon had foretold, Shiro soon
recovered consciousness. After telling his story he dropped into a deep
sleep, and Seaton and Crane, after another telephonic conference with
Prescott, retired for the rest of the night.

CHAPTER VI

The Object-Compass at Work

Prescott, after a sleepless night, joined Seaton and Crane at breakfast.

"What do you make of it, Mr. Prescott?" asked Crane. "Seaton here thinks
it was DuQuesne, possibly acting for some foreign power, after our
flying-machine to use in war. I think it was some big industrial concern
after our power-plant. What is your opinion?"

"I haven't any," replied the great detective after a moment. "Either
guess may be true, although I am almost positive that Dr. DuQuesne had
nothing to do with it, either way. It was no ordinary burglary, that is
certain from Shiro's story. It was done by someone who had exact
information of your movements and habits. He chose a time when you were
away, probably not so much from fear of you as because it was only in
your absence that he could succeed as he did in getting all the guards
out at once where he could handle them. He was a man with one accomplice
or who worked alone, and who was almost exactly Seaton's size and build.
He was undoubtedly an expert, as he blew the safe and searched the whole
house without leaving a finger-print or any other clue, however slight,
that I can find--a thing I have never before seen done in all my
experience."

"His size should help in locating him," declared Crane. "While there are
undoubtedly thousands of men of Dick's six-feet-one and two-fifths, they
are fairly well scattered, are they not?"

"Yes, they are, but his very size only makes it worse. I have gone over
all the records I could, in the short time I have had, and can't find an
expert of that class with anywhere near that description."

"How about the third guard, the one who escaped?" asked Seaton.

"He wasn't here. It was his afternoon off, you know, and he said that he
wouldn't come back into this job on a bet--that he wasn't afraid of
anything ordinary, but he didn't like the looks of things out here. That
sounded fishy to me, and I fired him. He may have been the leak, of
course, though I have always found him reliable before. If he did leak,
he must have got a whale of a slice for it. He is under constant watch,
and if we can ever get anything on him, I will nail him to the cross.
But that doesn't help get this affair straightened out. I haven't given
up, of course, there are lots of things not tried yet, but I must admit
that temporarily, at least, I am up a stump."

"Well," remarked Seaton, "that million-dollar reward will bring him in,
sure. No honor that ever existed among thieves, or even among
free-lances of diplomacy, could stand that strain."

"I'm not so sure of that, Dick," said Crane. "If either one of our ideas
is the right one, very few men would know enough about the affair to
give pertinent information, and they probably would not live long enough
to enjoy the reward very thoroughly. Even a million dollars fails in
that case."

"I rather agree with Mr. Crane, Seaton. If it were an ordinary
affair--and I am as sure it is not as the police are that it is--a
reward of that size would get us our man within two days. As it is, I
doubt very much that the reward will do us any good. I'm afraid that it
will never be claimed."

"Wonder if the Secret Service could help us out? They'd be interested if
it should turn out to be some foreign power."

"I took it up with the Chief himself, just after it happened last night.
He doesn't think that it can be a foreign country. He has their agents
pretty well spotted, and the only one that could fill the bill--you know
a man with that description and with the cold nerve to do the job would
be apt to be known--was in San Francisco, the time this job was pulled
off."

* * * * *

"The more you talk, the more I am convinced that it was DuQuesne
himself," declared Seaton, positively. "He is almost exactly my size and
build, is the only man I know of who could do anything with the solution
after he got it, and he has nerve enough to do anything."

"I would like to think it was DuQuesne," replied the detective,
thoughtfully, "but I'm afraid we'll have to count him out of it
entirely. He has been under the constant surveillance of my best men
ever since you mentioned him. We have detectaphones in his rooms, wires
on his telephone, and are watching him night and day. He never goes out
except to work, never has any except unimportant telephone calls, and
the instruments register only the occasional scratching of a match, the
rustle of papers, and other noises of a man studying. He's innocent."

"That may be true," assented Seaton doubtfully, "but you want to
remember that he knows more about electricity than the guy that invented
it, and I'm not sure that he can't talk to a detectaphone and make it
say anything he wants it to. Anyway, we can soon settle it. Yesterday I
made a special trip down to the Bureau, with some notes as an excuse, to
set this object-compass on him," taking one of the small instruments
from his pocket as he spoke. "I watched him a while last night, then
fixed an alarm to wake me if the needle moved much, but it pointed
steady all night. See! It's moving now. That means that he is going to
work early, as usual. Now I'm morally certain that he's mixed up in this
thing somewhere, and I'm not convinced that he isn't slipping one over
on your men some way--he's a clever devil. I wonder if you wouldn't take
this compass and watch him yourself tonight, just on general principles?
Or let me do it. I'd be glad to. I say 'tonight' because if he did get
the stuff here he didn't deliver it anywhere last night. It's just a
chance, of course, but he may do it tonight."

After the compass had been explained to the detective he gladly
consented to the plan, declaring that he would willingly spend the time
just to watch such an unheard-of instrument work. After another hour of
fruitless discussion Prescott took his leave, saying that he would mount
an impregnable guard from that time on.

Late that evening Prescott joined the two men who were watching
DuQuesne's house. They reported that all was perfectly quiet, as usual.
The scientist was in his library, the instruments registering only the
usual occasional faint sounds of a man absorbed in study. But after an
hour of waiting, and while the microphones made a noise as of rustling
papers, the needle of the compass moved. It dipped slowly toward the
earth as though DuQuesne were descending into the cellar, but at the
same time the shadow of his unmistakable profile was thrown upon the
window shade as he apparently crossed the room.

"Can't you hear him walk?" demanded Prescott.

"No. He has heavy Turkish rugs all over the library, and he always walks
very lightly, besides."

* * * * *

Prescott watched the needle in amazement as it dipped deeper and deeper,
pointing down into the earth almost under his feet and then behind him,
as though DuQuesne had walked beneath him. He did not, could not,
believe it. He was certain that something had gone wrong with the
strange instrument in his hand, nevertheless he followed the pointing
needle. It led him beside Park Road, down the hill, straight toward the
long bridge which forms one entrance to Rock Creek Park. Though
skeptical, Prescott took no chances, and as he approached the bridge he
left the road and concealed himself behind a clump of trees, from which
point of vantage he could see the ground beneath the bridge as well as
the roadway. Soon the bridge trembled under the weight of a heavy
automobile going toward the city at a high rate of speed. He saw
DuQuesne, with a roll of papers under his arm, emerge from under the
bridge just in time to leap aboard the automobile, which slowed down
only enough to enable him to board it in safety. The detective noticed
that the car was a Pierce-Arrow limousine--a car not common, even in
Washington--and rushed out to get its number, but the license plates
were so smeared with oil and dust that the numbers could not be read by
the light of the tail lamp. Glancing at the compass in his hand he saw
that the delicate needle was now pointing steadily at the fleeing car,
and all doubts as to the power of the instrument were dispelled. He
rejoined his men, informed them that DuQuesne had eluded them, and took
one of them up the hill to a nearby garage. There he engaged a fast car
and set out in pursuit, choosing the path for the chauffeur by means of
the compass. His search ended at the residence of Brookings, the General
Manager of the great World Steel Corporation. Here he dismissed the car
and watched the house while his assistant went to bring out the fast
motorcycle used by Prescott when high speed was desirable.

After four hours a small car bearing the license number of a distant
state--which was found, by subsequent telegraphing, to be unknown to the
authorities of that state--drove under the porte-cochère, and the hidden
watcher saw DuQuesne, without the papers, step into it. Knowing now what
to expect, Prescott drove his racing motorcycle at full speed out to the
Park Road Bridge and concealed himself beneath the structure, in a
position commanding a view of the concrete abutment through which the
scientist must have come. Soon he heard a car slow down overhead, heard
a few rapid footfalls, and saw the dark form of a large man outlined
against the gray face of the abutment. He saw the man lift his hand high
above his head, and saw a black rectangle appear in the gray, engulf the
man, and disappear. After a few minutes he approached the abutment and
searched its face with the help of his flash-light. He finally succeeded
in tracing the almost imperceptible crack which outlined the door, and
the concealed button which DuQuesne had pressed to open it. He did not
press the button, as it might be connected to an alarm. Deep in thought,
he mounted his motorcycle and made his way to his home to get a few
hours of sleep before reporting to Crane whom he was scheduled to see at
breakfast next morning.

* * * * *

Both men were waiting for him when he appeared, and he noticed with
pleasure that Shiro, with a heavily-bandaged head, was insisting that he
was perfectly able to wait on the table instead of breakfasting in bed.
He calmly proceeded to serve breakfast in spite of Crane's
remonstrances, having ceremoniously ordered out of the kitchen the
colored man who had been secured to take his place.

"Well, gentlemen," the detective began, "part of the mystery is
straightened out. I was entirely wrong, and each of you were partly
right. It was DuQuesne, in all probability. It is equally probable that
a great company--in this case the World Steel Corporation--is backing
him, though I don't believe there is a ghost of a show of ever being
able to prove it in law. Your 'object-compass' did the trick."

He narrated all the events of the previous night.

"I'd like to send him to the chair for this job," said Seaton with
rising anger. "We ought to shoot him anyway, damn him--I'm sorry duels
have gone out of fashion, for I can't shoot him off-hand, the way things
are now--I sure wish I could."

"No, you cannot shoot him," said Crane, thoughtfully, "and neither can
I, worse luck. We are not in his class there. And you must not fight
with him, either"--noting that Seaton's powerful hands had doubled into
fists, the knuckles showing white through the tanned skin--"though that
would be a fight worth watching and I would like to see you give him the
beating of his life. A little thing like a beating is not a fraction of
what he deserves and it would show him that we have found him out. No,
we must do it legally or let him entirely alone. You think there is no
hope of proving it, Prescott?"

"Frankly, I see very little chance of it. There is always hope, of
course, and if that bunch of pirates ever makes a slip, we'll be right
there waiting to catch 'em. While I don't believe in holding out false
encouragement, they've never slipped yet. I'll take my men off DuQuesne,
now that we've linked him up with Steel. It doesn't make any difference,
does it, whether he goes to them every night or only once a week?

"No."

"Then about all I can do is to get everything I can on that Steel crowd,
and that is very much like trying to get blood out of a turnip. I intend
to keep after them, of course, for I owe them something for killing two
of my men here, as well as for other favors they have done me in the
past, but don't expect too much. I have tackled them before, and so have
police headquarters and even the Secret Service itself, under cover, and
all that any of us has been able to get is an occasional small fish. We
could never land the big fellows. In fact, we have never found the
slightest material proof of what we are morally certain is the truth,
that World Steel is back of a lot of deviltry all over the country. The
little fellows who do the work either don't know anything or are afraid
to tell. I'll see if I can find out what they are doing with the stuff
they stole, but I'm not even sure of doing that. You can't plant
instruments on that bunch--it would be like trying to stick a pin into a
sleeping cat without waking him up. They undoubtedly have one of the
best corps of detectives in the world. You haven't perfected an
instrument which enables you to see into a closed room and hear what is
going on there, have you?" And upon being assured that they had not, he
took his leave.

"Optimistic cuss, ain't he?" remarked Seaton.

"He has cause to be, Dick. World Steel is a soulless corporation if
there ever was one. They have the shrewdest lawyers in the country, and
they get away legally with things that are flagrantly illegal, such as
freezing out competitors, stealing patents, and the like. Report has it
that they do not stop at arson, treason, or murder to attain their ends,
but as Prescott said, they never leave any legal proof behind them."

"Well, _we_ should fret, anyway. Of course, a monopoly is what they're
after, but they can't form one because they can't possibly get the rest
of our solution. Even if they should get it, we can get more. It won't
be as easy as this last batch was, since the X was undoubtedly present
in some particular lot of platinum in extraordinary quantities, but now
that I know exactly what to look for, I can find more. So they can't get
their monopoly unless they kill us off...."

"Exactly. Go on, I see you are getting the idea. If we should both
conveniently die, they could get the solution from the company, and have
the monopoly, since no one else can handle it."

"But they couldn't get away with it, Mart--never in a thousand years,
even if they wanted to. Of course I am small fry, but you are too big a
man for even Steel to do away with. It can't be done."

"I am not so sure of that. Airplane accidents are numerous, and I am an
aviator. Also, has it ever occurred to you that the heavy forging for
the Skylark, ordered a while ago, are of steel?"

Seaton paused, dumbfounded, in the act of lighting his pipe.

"But thanks to your object-compass, we are warned." Crane continued,
evenly. "Those forgings are going through the most complete set of tests
known to the industry, and if they go into the Skylark at all it will be
after I am thoroughly convinced that they will not give way on our first
trip into space. But we can do nothing until the steel arrives, and with
the guard Prescott has here now we are safe enough. Luckily, the enemy
knows nothing of the object-compass or the X-plosive, and we must keep
them in ignorance. Hereinafter, not even the guards get a look at
anything we do."

"They sure don't. Let's get busy!"

* * * * *

DuQuesne and Brookings met in conference in a private room of the
Perkins Café.

"What's the good word, Doctor?"

"So-so," replied the scientist. "The stuff is all they said it was, but
we haven't enough of it to build much of a power-plant. We can't go
ahead with it, anyway, as long as Seaton and Crane have nearly all their
original solution."

"No, we can't. We must find a way of getting it. I see now that we
should have done as you suggested, and taken it before they had warning
and put it out of our reach."

"There's no use holding post-mortems. We've got to get it, some way, and
everybody that knows anything about that new metal, how to get it or how
to handle it, must die. At first, it would have been enough to kill
Seaton. Now, however, there is no doubt that Crane knows all about it,
and he probably has left complete instructions in case he gets killed in
an accident--he's the kind that would. We will have to keep our eyes
open and wipe out those instructions and anyone who has seen them. You
see that, don't you?"

"Yes, I am afraid that is the only way out. We must have the monopoly,
and anyone who might be able to interfere with it must be removed. How
has your search for more X prospered?"

"About as well as I expected. We bought up all the platinum wastes we
could get, and reworked all the metallic platinum and allied metals we
could buy in the open market, and got less than a gram of X out of the
whole lot. It's scarcer than radium. Seaton's finding so much of it at
once was an accident, pure and simple--it couldn't happen once in a
million years."

"Well, have you any suggestions as to how we can get that solution?"

"No. I haven't thought of anything but that very thing ever since I
found that they had hidden it, and I can't yet see any good way of
getting it. My forte is direct action and that fails in this case, since
no amount of force or torture could make Crane reveal the hiding-place
of the solution. It's probably in the safest safe-deposit vault in the
country. He wouldn't carry the key on him, probably wouldn't have it in
the house. Killing Seaton or Crane, or both of them, is easy enough, but
it probably wouldn't get us the solution, as I have no doubt that Crane
has provided for everything."

"Probably he has. But if he should disappear the stuff would have to
come to light, or the Seaton-Crane Company might start their
power-plant. In that case, we probably could get it?"

"_Possibly_, you mean. That method is too slow to suit me, though. It
would take months, perhaps years, and would be devilishly uncertain, to
boot. They'll know something is in the wind, and the stuff will be
surrounded by every safeguard they can think of. There must be some
better way than that, but I haven't been able to think of it."

"Neither have I, but your phrase 'direct action' gives me an idea. You
say that that method has failed. What do you think of trying indirect
action in the shape of Perkins, who is indirection personified?"

"Bring him in. He may be able to figure out something."

* * * * *

Perkins was called in, and the main phases of the situation laid before
him. The three men sat in silence for many minutes while the crafty
strategist studied the problem. Finally he spoke.

"There's only one way, gentlemen. We must get a handle on either Seaton
or Crane strong enough to make them give up their bottle of dope, their
plans, and everything...."

"Handle!" interrupted DuQuesne. "You talk like a fool! You can't get
anything on either of them."

"You misunderstand me, Doctor. You can get a handle of some kind on any
living man. Not necessarily in his past, you understand--I know that
anything like that is out of the question in this case--but in his
future. With some men it is money, with others power, with others fame,
with others women or some woman, and so on down the list. What can we
use here? Money is out of the question, so are power and fame, as they
already have both in plain sight. It seems to me that women would be our
best chance."

"Hah!" snorted the chemist. "Crane has been chased by all the women of
three continents so long that he's womanproof. Seaton is worse--he's
engaged, and wouldn't realize that a woman was on his trail, even if you
could find a better looking one to work on him than the girl he's
engaged to--which would be a hard job. Cleopatra herself couldn't swing
that order."

"Engaged? That makes it simple as A B C."

"Simple? In the devil's name, how?"

"Easy as falling off a log. You have enough of the dope to build a
space-car from those plans, haven't you?"

"Yes. What has that to do with the case?"

"It has everything to do with it. I would suggest that we build such a
car and use it to carry off the girl. After we have her safe we could
tell Seaton that she is marooned on some distant planet, and that she
will be returned to earth only after all the solution, all notes, plans,
and everything pertaining to the new metal are surrendered. That will
bring him, and Crane will consent. Then, afterward, Dr. Seaton may go
away indefinitely, and if desirable, Mr. Crane may accompany him."

"But suppose they try to fight?" asked Brookings.

Perkins slid down into his chair in deep thought, his pale eyes under
half-closed lids darting here and there, his stubby fingers worrying his
watch-chain restlessly.

"Who is the girl?" he asked at last.

"Dorothy Vaneman, the daughter of the lawyer. She's that auburn-haired
beauty that the papers were so full of when she came out last year."

"Vaneman is a director in the Seaton-Crane Company. That makes it still
better. If they show fight and follow us, that beautiful car we are
making for them will collapse and they will be out of the way. Vaneman,
as Seaton's prospective father-in-law and a member of his company,
probably knows something about the secret. Maybe all of it. With his
daughter in a space-car, supposedly out in space, and Seaton and Crane
out of the way, Vaneman would listen to reason and let go of the
solution, particularly as nobody knows much about it except Seaton and
Crane."

"That strikes me as a perfectly feasible plan," said Brookings. "But you
wouldn't really take her to another planet, would you? Why not use an
automobile or an airplane, and tell Seaton that it was a space-car?"

"I wouldn't advise that. He might not believe it, and they might make a
lot of trouble. It must be a real space-car even if we don't take her
out of the city. To make it more impressive, you should take her in
plain sight of Seaton--no, that would be too dangerous, as I have found
out from the police that Seaton has a permit to carry arms, and I know
that he is one of the fastest men with a pistol in the whole country. Do
it in plain sight of her folks, say, or a crowd of people; being masked,
of course, or dressed in an aviator's suit, with the hood and goggles
on. Take her straight up out of sight, then hide her somewhere until
Seaton listens to reason. I know that he _will_ listen, but if he
doesn't, you might let him see you start out to visit her. He'll be sure
to follow you in their rotten car. As soon as he does that, he's our
meat. But that raises the question of who is going to drive the car?"

"I am," replied DuQuesne. "I will need some help, though, as at least
one man must stay with the girl while I bring the car back."

"We don't want to let anybody else in on this if we can help it,"
cautioned Brookings. "You could go along, couldn't you, Perkins?"

"Is it safe?"

"Absolutely," answered DuQuesne. "They have everything worked out to the
queen's taste."

"That's all right, then. I'll take the trip. Also," turning to
Brookings, "it will help in another little thing we are doing--the
Spencer affair."

"Haven't you got that stuff away from her yet, after having had her
locked up in that hell-hole for two months?" asked Brookings.

"No. She's stubborn as a mule. We've given her the third degree time
after time, but it's no use."

* * * * *

"What's this?" asked DuQuesne. "Deviltry in the main office?"

"Yes. This Margaret Spencer claims that we swindled her father out of an
invention and indirectly caused his death. She secured a position with
us in search of evidence. She is an expert stenographer, and showed such
ability that she was promoted until she became my secretary. Our
detectives must have been asleep, as she made away with some photographs
and drawings before they caught her. She has no real evidence, of
course, but she might cause trouble with a jury, especially as she is
one of the best-looking women in Washington. Perkins is holding her
until she returns the stolen articles."

"Why can't you kill her off?"

"She cannot be disposed of until after we know where the stuff is,
because she says, and Perkins believes, that the evidence will show up
in her effects. We must do something about her soon, as the search for
her is dying down and she will be given up for dead."

"What's the idea about her and the space-car?"

"If the car proves reliable we might actually take her out into space
and give her the choice between telling and walking back. She has nerve
enough here on earth to die before giving up, but I don't believe any
human being would be game to go it alone on a strange world. She'd
wilt."

"I believe you're right, Perkins. Your suggestions are the best way out.
Don't you think so, Doctor?"

"Yes, I don't see how we can fail--we're sure to win, either way. You
are prepared for trouble afterward, of course?"

"Certainly, but I don't think there will be much trouble. They can't
possibly link the three of us together. They aren't wise to you, are
they, Doctor?"

"Not a chance!" sneered DuQuesne. "They ran themselves ragged trying to
get something on me, but they couldn't do it. They have given me up as a
bad job. I am still as careful as ever, though--I am merely a pure
scientist in the Bureau of Chemistry!"

All three laughed, and Perkins left the room. The talk then turned to
the construction of the space-car. It was decided to rush the work on
it, so that DuQuesne could familiarize himself with its operation, but
not to take any steps in the actual abduction until such time as Seaton
and Crane were nearly ready to take their first flight, so that they
could pursue the abductors in case Seaton was still obdurate after a few
days of his fiancée's absence. DuQuesne insisted that the car should
mount a couple of heavy guns, to destroy the pursuing car if the faulty
members should happen to hold together long enough to carry it out into
space.

After a long discussion, in which every detail of the plan was carefully
considered, the two men left the restaurant, by different exits.

CHAPTER VII

The Trial Voyage

The great steel forgings which were to form the framework of the Skylark
finally arrived and were hauled into the testing shed. There, behind
closed doors, Crane inspected every square inch of the massive members
with a lens, but could find nothing wrong. Still unsatisfied, he fitted
up an electrical testing apparatus in order to search out flaws which
might be hidden beneath the surface. This device revealed flaws in every
piece, and after thoroughly testing each one and mapping out the
imperfections he turned to Seaton with a grave face.

"Worse than useless, every one of them. They are barely strong enough to
stand shipment. They figured that we would go slowly until we were well
out of the atmosphere, then put on power--then something would give way
and we would never come back."

"That's about the right dope, I guess. But now what'll we do? We can't
cancel without letting them know we're onto them, and we certainly can't
use this stuff."

"No, but we will go ahead and build this ship, anyway, so that they will
think that we are going ahead with it. At the same time we will build
another one, about four times this size, in absolute secrecy, and...."

"What d'you mean, absolute secrecy? How can you keep steel castings and
forgings of that size secret from Steel?"

"I know a chap who owns and operates a small steel plant, so
insignificant, relatively, that he has not yet been bought out or frozen
out by Steel. I was able to do him a small favor once, and I am sure
that he will be glad to return it. We will not be able to oversee the
work, that is a drawback. We can get MacDougall to do it for us,
however, and with him doing the work we can rest assured that there will
be nothing off color. Even Steel couldn't buy _him_."

"MacDougall! The man who installed the Intercontinental plant? He
wouldn't touch a little job like this with a pole!"

"I think he would. He and I are rather friendly, and after I tell him
all about it he will be glad to take it. It means building the first
interplanetary vessel, you know."

"Wouldn't Steel follow him up if he should go to work on a mysterious
project? He's too big to hide."

"No. He will go camping--he often does. I have gone with him several
times when we were completely out of touch with civilization for two
months at a time. Now, about the ship we want. Have you any ideas?"

"It will cost more than our entire capital."

"That is easily arranged. We do not care how much it costs."

Seaton began to object to drawing so heavily upon the resources of his
friend, but was promptly silenced.

"I told you when we started," Crane said flatly, "that your solution and
your idea are worth far more than half a million. In fact, they are
worth more than everything I have. No more talk of the money end of it,
Dick."

"All right. We'll build a regular go-getter. Four times the size--she'll
be a bear-cat, Mart. I'm glad this one is on the fritz. She'll carry a
two-hundred-pound bar--Zowie! Watch our smoke! And say, why wouldn't it
be a good idea to build an attractor--a thing like an object-compass,
but mounting a ten-pound bar instead of a needle, so that if they chase
us in space we can reach out and grab 'em? We might mount a machine-gun
in each quadrant, shooting X-plosive bullets, through pressure gaskets
in the walls. We should have something for defense--I don't like the
possibility of having that gang of pirates after us, and nothing to
fight back with except thought-waves."

"Right. We will do both those things. But we should make the power-plant
big enough to avert any possible contingency--say four hundred
pounds--and we should have everything in duplicate, from power-plant to
push-buttons."

"I don't think that's necessary, Mart. Don't you think that's carrying
caution to extremes?"

"Possibly--but I would rather be a live coward than a dead hero,
wouldn't you?"

"You chirped it, old scout, I sure would. I never did like the looks of
that old guy with the scythe, and I would hate to let DuQuesne feel that
he had slipped something over on me at my own game. Besides, I've
developed a lot of caution myself, lately. Double she is, with a skin of
four-foot Norwegian armor. Let's get busy!"

* * * * *

They made the necessary alteration in the plans, and in a few days work
was begun upon the huge steel shell in the little mountain steel-plant.
The work was done under the constant supervision of the great
MacDougall, by men who had been in his employ for years and who were
all above suspicion. While it was being built Seaton and Crane employed
a force of men and went ahead with the construction of the space-car in
the testing shed. While they did not openly slight the work nearly all
their time was spent in the house, perfecting the many essential things
which were to go into the real Skylark. There was the attractor, for
which they had to perfect a special sighting apparatus so that it could
act in any direction, and yet would not focus upon the ship itself nor
anything it contained. There were many other things.

It was in this work that the strikingly different temperaments and
abilities of the two men were most clearly revealed. Seaton strode up
and down the room, puffing great volumes of smoke from his hot and
reeking briar, suggesting methods and ideas, his keen mind finding the
way over, around, or through the apparently insuperable obstacles which
beset their path. Crane, seated calmly at the drafting-table,
occasionally inhaling a mouthful of smoke from one of his specially-made
cigarettes, mercilessly tore Seaton's suggestions to shreds--pointing
out their weaknesses, proving his points with his cold, incisive
reasoning and his slide-rule calculations of factors, stresses, and
strains. Seaton in turn would find a remedy for every defect, and
finally, the idea complete and perfect, Crane would impale it upon the
point of his drafting pencil and spread it in every detail upon the
paper before him, while Seaton's active mind leaped to the next problem.

Not being vitally interested in the thing being built in the shed, they
did not know that to the flawed members were being attached faulty
plates, by imperfect welding. Even if they had been interested they
could not have found the poor workmanship by any ordinary inspection,
for it was being done by a picked crew of experts picked by Perkins. But
to make things even, Perkins' crew did not know that the peculiar
instruments installed by Seaton and Crane, of which their foreman took
many photographs, were not real instruments, and were made only nearly
enough like them to pass inspection. They were utterly useless, in
design and function far different from the real instruments intended for
the Skylark.

Finally, the last dummy instrument was installed in the worthless
space-car, which the friends referred to between themselves as "The
Cripple," a name which Seaton soon changed to "Old Crip." The
construction crew was dismissed after Crane had let the foreman overhear
a talk between Seaton and himself in which they decided not to start for
a few days as they had some final experiments to make. Prescott reported
that Steel had relaxed its vigilance and was apparently waiting for the
first flight. About the same time word was received from MacDougall that
the real Skylark was ready for the finishing touches. A huge triplane
descended upon Crane Field and was loaded to its capacity with strange
looking equipment. When it left Seaton and Crane went with it, "to make
the final tests before the first flight," leaving a heavy guard over the
house and the testing shed.

A few nights later, in inky blackness, a huge shape descended rapidly in
front of the shed, whose ponderous doors opened to receive it and closed
quickly after it. The Skylark moved lightly and easily as a wafted
feather, betraying its thousands of tons of weight only by the hole it
made in the hard-beaten earth of the floor as it settled to rest.
Opening one of the heavy doors, Seaton and Crane sprang out into the
darkness.

Dorothy and her father, who had been informed that the Skylark was to be
brought home that night, were waiting. Seaton caught up his sweetheart
in one mighty arm and extended his hand past her to Vaneman, who seized
it in both his own. Upon the young man's face was the look of a
victorious king returning from conquest. For a few minutes disconnected
exclamations were all that any of the party could utter. Then Seaton,
loosening slightly his bear's hold upon Dorothy, spoke.

"She flies!" he cried exultantly. "She flies, dearest, like a ray of
light for speed and like a bit of thistledown for lightness. We've been
around the moon!"

"Around the moon!" cried the two amazed visitors. "So soon?" asked
Vaneman. "When did you start?"

"Almost an hour ago," replied Crane readily; he had already taken out
his watch. His voice was calm, his face quiet, but to those who knew him
best a deeper resonance in his voice and a deeper blue sparkle in his
eyes betrayed his emotion. Both inventors were moved more than they
could have told by their achievement, by the complete success of the
great space-cruiser upon which they had labored for months with all the
power of their marvelous intellects. Seaton stood now at the summit of
his pride. No recognition by the masses, no applause by the multitudes,
no praise even from the upper ten of his own profession could equal for
him the silent adulation of the two before him. Dorothy's exquisite face
was glorified as she looked at her lover. Her eyes wonderful as they
told him how high he stood above all others in her world, how much she
loved him. Seeing that look; that sweet face, more beautiful than ever
in this, his hour of triumph; that perfect, adorable body, Seaton forgot
the others and a more profound exaltation than that brought by his
flight filled his being--humble thankfulness that he was the man to
receive the untold treasure of her great giving.

"Every bit of mechanism we had occasion to use worked perfectly," Crane
stated proudly. "We did not find it necessary to change any of our
apparatus and we hope to make a longer flight soon. The hour we took on
this trip might easily have been only a few minutes, for the Lark did
not even begin to pick up speed."

* * * * *

Shiro looked at Crane with an air of utter devotion and bowed until his
head approached the floor.

"Sir," he said in his stilted English. "Honorable Skylark shall be
marvelous wonder. If permitting, I shall luxuriate in preparing suitable
refreshment."

The permission granted, he trotted away into the house, and the
travelers invited their visitors to inspect the new craft. Crane and the
older man climbed through the circular doorway, which was at an
elevation of several feet above the ground. Seaton and Dorothy
exchanged a brief but enthusiastic caress before he lifted her lightly
up to the opening and followed her up a short flight of stairs. Although
she knew what to expect, from her lover's descriptions and from her own
knowledge of "Old Crip," which she had seen many times, she caught her
breath in amazement as she stood up and looked about the
brilliantly-lighted interior of the great sky-rover. It was a sight such
as had never before been seen upon earth.

[Illustration: In the exact center of the huge shell was a spherical
network of enormous steel beams. Inside this structure could be seen a
similar network which, mounted upon universal bearings, was free to
revolve in any direction.]

She saw a spherical shell of hardened steel armor-plate, fully forty
feet in diameter; though its true shape was not readily apparent from
the inside, as it was divided into several compartments by horizontal
floors or decks. In the exact center of the huge shell was a spherical
network of enormous steel beams. Inside this structure could be seen a
similar network which, mounted upon universal bearings, was free to
revolve in any direction. This inner network was filled with machinery,
surrounding a shining copper cylinder. From the outer network radiated
six mighty supporting columns. These, branching as they neared the hull
of the vessel, supported the power-plant and steering apparatus in the
center and so strengthened the shell that the whole structure was nearly
as strong as a solid steel ball. She noticed that the floor, perhaps
eight feet below the center, was heavily upholstered in leather and did
not seem solid; and that the same was true of the dozen or more
seats--she could not call them chairs--which were built in various
places. She gazed with interest at the two instrument boards, upon which
flashed tiny lights and the highly-polished plate glass, condensite, and
metal of many instruments, the use of which she could not guess.

After a few minutes of silence both visitors began to ask questions, and
Seaton showed them the principal features of the novel craft. Crane
accompanied them in silence, enjoying their pleasure, glorying in the
mighty vessel. Seaton called attention to the great size and strength of
the lateral supporting columns, one of which was immediately above their
heads, and then led them over to the vertical column which pierced the
middle of the floor. Enormous as the lateral had seemed, it appeared
puny in comparison with this monster of fabricated steel. Seaton
explained that the two verticals were many times stronger than the four
laterals, as the center of gravity of the ship had been made lower than
its geometrical center, so that the apparent motion of the vessel and
therefore the power of the bar, would usually be merely vertical.
Resting one hand caressingly upon the huge column, he exultantly
explained that these members were "the last word in strength, made up of
many separate I-beams and angles of the strongest known special steel,
latticed and braced until no conceivable force could make them yield a
millimeter."

"But why such strength?" asked the lawyer doubtfully. "This column alone
would hold up Brooklyn Bridge."

"To hold down the power-plant, so that the bar won't tear through the
ship when we cut her loose," replied Seaton. "Have you any idea how fast
this bird can fly?"

"Well, I have heard you speak of traveling with the velocity of light,
but that is overdrawn, isn't it?"

"Not very much. Our figures show that with this four-hundred-pound
bar"--pointing to the copper cylinder in the exact center of the inner
sphere--"we could develop not only the velocity of light, but an
acceleration equal to that velocity, were it not for the increase in
mass at high velocities, as shown by Einstein and others. We can't go
very fast near the earth, of course, as the friction of the air would
melt the whole works in a few minutes. Until we get out of the
atmosphere our speed will be limited by the ability of steel to
withstand melting by the friction of the air to somewhere in the
neighborhood of four or five thousand miles per hour, but out in space
we can develop any speed we wish, up to that of light as a limit."

"I studied physics a little in my youth. Wouldn't the mere force of such
an acceleration as you mention flatten you on the floor and hold you
there? And any sudden jar would certainly kill you."

* * * * *

"There can't be any sudden jar. This is a special floor, you notice. It
is mounted on long, extremely heavy springs, to take up any possible
jar. Also, whenever we are putting on power we won't try to stand up,
our legs would crimple up like strings. We will ride securely strapped
into those special seats, which are mounted the same as the floor, only
a whole lot more so. As to the acceleration...."

"That word means picking up speed, doesn't it?" interrupted Dorothy.

"The rate of picking up speed," corrected Seaton. "That is, if you were
going forty miles per hour one minute, and fifty the next minute, your
acceleration would be ten miles per hour per minute. See? It's
acceleration that makes you feel funny when you start up or down in an
elevator."

"Then riding in this thing will be like starting up in an elevator so
that your heart sinks into your boots and you can't breathe?"

"Yes, only worse. We will pick up speed faster and keep on doing it...."

"Seriously," interrupted the lawyer, "do you think that the human body
can stand any such acceleration as that?"

"I don't know. We are going to find out, by starting out slowly and
increasing our acceleration to as much as we can stand."

"I see," Vaneman replied. "But how are you going to steer her? How do
you keep permanent reference points, since there are no directions in
space?"

"That was our hardest problem," explained Seaton, "but Martin solved it
perfectly. See the power-plant up there? Notice those big supporting
rings and bearings? Well, the power-plant is entirely separate from the
ship, as it is inside that inner sphere, about which the outer sphere
and the ship itself are free to revolve in any direction. No matter how
much the ship rolls and pitches, as she is bound to do every time we
come near enough to any star or planet to be influenced by its
gravitation, the bar stays where it is pointed. Those six big jackets in
the outer sphere, on the six sides of the bar, cover six pairs of
gyroscope wheels, weighing several tons each, turning at a terrific
speed in a vacuum. The gyroscopes keep the whole outer sphere in exactly
the same position as long as they are kept turning, and afford us not
only permanent planes of reference, but also a solid foundation in those
planes which can be used in pointing the bar. The bar can be turned
instantly to any direction whatever by special electrical instruments on
the boards. You see, the outer sphere stays immovably fixed in that
position, with the bar at liberty to turn in any direction inside it,
and the ship at liberty to do the same thing outside it.

"Now we will show you where we sleep," Seaton continued. "We have eight
rooms, four below and four above," leading the way to a narrow, steep
steel stairway and down into a very narrow hall, from either side of
which two doors opened. "This is my room, the adjoining one is Mart's.
Shiro sleeps across the hall. The rest of the rooms are for our guests
on future trips."

Sliding back the door, he switched on the light and revealed a small but
fully-appointed bedroom, completely furnished with everything necessary,
yet everything condensed into the least possible space. The floor, like
the one above, was of cushioned leather supported by springs. The bed
was a modification of the special seats already referred to. Opening
another sliding door, he showed them an equally complete and equally
compact bathroom.

"You see, we have all the comforts of home. This bathroom, however, is
practical only when we have some force downward, either gravitation or
our own acceleration. The same reasoning accounts for the hand-rails you
see everywhere on board. Drifting in space, you know, there is no
weight, and you can't walk; you must pull yourself around. If you tried
to take a step you would bounce up and hit the ceiling, and stay there.
That is why the ceilings are so well padded. And if you tried to wash
your face you would throw water all over the place, and it would float
around in the air instead of falling to the floor. As long as we can
walk we can use the bathroom--if I should want to wash my face while we
are drifting, I just press this button here, and the pilot will put on
enough acceleration to make the correct use of water possible. There are
a lot of surprising things about a trip into space."

"I don't doubt it a bit, and I'm simply wild to go for a ride with you.
When will you take me, Dicky?" asked Dorothy eagerly.

"Very soon, Dottie. As soon as we get her in perfect running condition.
You shall be the first to ride with us, I promise you."

"Where do you cook and eat? How do you see out? How about the air and
water supply? How do you keep warm, or cool, as the case may be?" asked
the girl's father, as though he were cross-examining a witness.

"Shiro has a galley on the main floor, and tables fold up into the wall
of the main compartment. The passengers see out by sliding back steel
panels, which normally cover the windows. The pilot can see in any
direction from his seat at the instrument-board, by means of special
instruments, something like periscopes. The windows are made of optical
glass similar to that used in the largest telescopes. They are nearly as
thick as the hull and have a compressive resistance almost equal to that
of armor steel. Although so thick, they are crystal clear, and a speck
of dust on the outer surface is easily seen. We have water enough in
tanks to last us three months, or indefinitely if we should have to be
careful, as we can automatically distill and purify all our waste water,
recovering absolutely pure H2O. We have compressed air, also in tanks,
but we need very little, as the air is constantly being purified. Also,
we have oxygen-generating apparatus aboard, in case we should run short.
As to keeping warm, we have electric heating coils, run by the
practically inexhaustible power of a small metal bar. If we get too near
the sun and get too warm, we have a refrigerating machine to cool us
off. Anything else?"

"You'd better give up, Dad," laughingly advised his daughter. "You've
thought of everything, haven't you, Dick?"

"Mart has, I think. This is all his doing, you know. I wouldn't have
thought of a tenth of it, myself."

"I must remind you young folks," said the older man, glancing at his
watch, "that it is very late and high time for Dottie and me to be going
home. We would like to stay and see the rest of it, but you know we must
be away from here before daylight."

* * * * *

As they went into the house Vaneman asked:

"What does the other side of the moon look like? I have always been
curious about it."

"We were not able to see much," replied Crane "It was too dark and we
did not take the time to explore it, but from what we could see by means
of our searchlights it is very much like this side--the most barren and
desolate place imaginable. After we go to Mars, we intend to explore the
moon thoroughly."

"Mars, then, is your first goal? When do you intend to start?"

"We haven't decided definitely. Probably in a day or two. Everything is
ready now."

As the Vanemans had come out in the street car, in order to attract as
little attention as possible, Seaton volunteered to take them home in
one of Crane's cars. As they bade Crane goodnight after enjoying Shiro's
"suitable refreshment" the lawyer took the chauffeur's seat, motioning
his daughter and Seaton into the closed body of the car. As soon as they
had started Dorothy turned in the embrace of her lover's arm.

"Dick," she said fiercely. "I would have been worried sick if I had
known that you were way off there."

"I knew it, sweetheart. That's why I didn't tell you we were going. We
both knew the Skylark was perfectly safe, but I knew that you would
worry about our first trip. Now that we have been to the moon you won't
be uneasy when we go to Mars, will you, dear?"

"I can't help it, boy. I will be afraid that something terrible has
happened, every minute. Won't you take me with you? Then, if anything
happens, it will happen to both of us, and that is as it should be. You
know that I wouldn't want to keep on living if anything _should_ happen
to you."

He put both arms around her as his reply, and pressed his cheek to hers.

"Dorothy sweetheart, I know exactly how you feel. I feel the same way
myself. I'm awfully sorry, dear, but I can't do it. I know the machine
is safe, but I've got to prove it to everybody else before I take you on
a long trip with me. Your father will agree with me that you ought not
to go, on the first trip or two, anyway. And besides, what would Madam
Grundy say?"

"Well, there _is_ a way...." she began, and he felt her face turn hot.

His arms tightened around her and his breath came fast.

"I know it, sweetheart, and I would like nothing better in the world
than to be married today and take our honeymoon in the Skylark, but I
can't do it. After we come back from the first long trip we will be
married just as soon as you say ready, and after that we will always be
together wherever I go. But I can't take even the millionth part of a
chance with anything as valuable as you are--you see that, don't you,
Dottie?"

"I suppose so," she returned disconsolately, "but you'll make it a short
trip, for my sake? I know I won't rest a minute until you get back."

"I promise you that we won't be gone more than four days. Then for the
greatest honeymoon that ever was," and they clung together in the dark
body of the car, each busy with solemn and beautiful thoughts of the
happiness to come.

They soon reached their destination. As they entered the house Dorothy
made one more attempt.

"Dad, Dick is just too perfectly mean. He says he won't take me on the
first trip. If you were going out there wouldn't mother want to go along
too?"

After listening to Seaton he gave his decision.

"Dick is right, Kitten. He must make the long trip first. Then, after
the machine is proved reliable, you may go with him. I can think of no
better way of spending a honeymoon--it will be a new one, at least. And
you needn't worry about the boys getting back safely. I might not trust
either of them alone, but together they are invincible. Good-night,
children. I wish you success, Dick," as he turned away.

Seaton took a lover's leave of Dorothy, and went into the lawyer's
study, taking an envelope from his pocket.

"Mr. Vaneman," he said in a low voice, "we think the Steel crowd is
still camping on our trail. We are ready for them, with a lot of stuff
that they never heard of, but in case anything goes wrong, Martin has
written between the lines of this legal form, in invisible ink A-36,
exactly how to get possession of all our notes and plans, so that the
company can go ahead with everything. With those directions any chemist
can find and use the stuff safely. Please put this envelope in the
safest place you can think of, and then forget it unless they get both
Crane and me. There's about one chance in a million of their doing that,
but Mart doesn't gamble on even that chance."

"He is right, Dick. I believe that you can outwit them in any situation,
but I will keep this paper where no one except myself can ever see it,
nevertheless. Good-night, son, and good luck."

"The same to you, sir, and thank you. Good-night."

CHAPTER VIII

Indirect Action

The afternoon following the homecoming of the Skylark, Seaton and
Dorothy returned from a long horseback ride in the park. After Seaton
had mounted his motorcycle Dorothy turned toward a bench in the shade of
an old elm to watch a game of tennis on the court next door. Scarcely
had she seated herself when a great copper-plated ball alighted upon the
lawn in front of her. A heavy steel door snapped open and a powerful
figure clad in aviator's leather, the face completely covered by the
hood, leaped out. She jumped to her feet with a cry of joyful surprise,
thinking it was Seaton--a cry which died suddenly as she realized that
Seaton had just left her and that this vessel was far too small to be
the Skylark. She turned in flight, but the stranger caught her in three
strides. She found herself helpless in a pair of arms equal in strength
to Seaton's own. Picking her up lightly as a baby, DuQuesne carried her
over to the space-car. Shriek after shriek rang out as she found that
her utmost struggles were of no avail against the giant strength of her
captor, that her fiercely-driven nails glanced harmlessly off the heavy
glass and leather of his hood, and that her teeth were equally
ineffective against his suit.

With the girl in his arms DuQuesne stepped into the vessel, and as the
door clanged shut behind them Dorothy caught a glimpse of another woman,
tied hand and foot in one of the side seats of the car.

"Tie her feet, Perkins," DuQuesne ordered brusquely, holding her around
the body so that her feet extended straight out in front of him. "She's
a wildcat."

As Perkins threw one end of a small rope around her ankles Dorothy
doubled up her knees, drawing her feet as far away from him as possible.
As he incautiously approached, she kicked out viciously, with all the
force of her muscular young body behind her heavy riding-boots.

The sharp heel of one small boot struck Perkins squarely in the pit of
the stomach--a true "solar-plexus" blow--and completely knocked out, he
staggered back against the instrument-board. His out-flung arm pushed
the speed lever clear out to its last notch, throwing the entire current
of the batteries through the bar, which was pointed straight up, as it
had been when they made their landing, and closing the switch which
threw on the power of the repelling outer coating. There was a creak of
the mighty steel fabric, stressed almost to its limit as the vessel
darted upward with its stupendous velocity, and only the
carefully-planned spring-and-cushion floor saved their lives as they
were thrown flat and held there by the awful force of their acceleration
as the space-car tore through the thin layer of the earth's atmosphere.
So terrific was their speed, that the friction of the air did not have
time to set them afire--they were through it and into the perfect vacuum
of interstellar space before the thick steel hull was even warmed
through. Dorothy lay flat upon her back, just as she had fallen, unable
even to move her arms, gaining each breath only by a terrible effort.
Perkins was a huddled heap under the instrument-board. The other
captive, Brookings' ex-secretary, was in somewhat better case, as her
bonds had snapped like string and she was lying at full length in one of
the side-seats--forced into that position and held there, as the design
of the seats was adapted for the most comfortable position possible
under such conditions. She, like Dorothy, was gasping for breath, her
straining muscles barely able to force air into her lungs because of the
paralyzing weight of her chest.

DuQuesne alone was able to move, and it required all of his Herculean
strength to creep and crawl, snake-like, toward the instrument-board.
Finally attaining his goal, he summoned all his strength to grasp, not
the controlling lever, which he knew was beyond his reach, but a cut-out
switch only a couple of feet above his head. With a series of convulsive
movements he fought his way up, first until he was crouching on his
elbows and knees, and then into a squatting position. Placing his left
hand under his right, he made a last supreme effort. Perspiration
streamed from him, his mighty muscles stood out in ridges visible even
under the heavy leather of his coat, his lips parted in a snarl over his
locked teeth as he threw every ounce of his wonderful body into an
effort to force his right hand up to the switch. His hand approached it
slowly--closed over it and pulled it out.

The result was startling. With the mighty power instantly cut off, and
with not even the ordinary force of gravitation to counteract the force
DuQuesne was exerting, his own muscular effort hurled him up toward the
center of the car and against the instrument-board. The switch, still in
his grasp, was again closed. His shoulder crashed against the levers
which controlled the direction of the bar, swinging it through a wide
arc. As the ship darted off in the new direction with all its old
acceleration, he was hurled against the instrument board, tearing one
end loose from its supports and falling unconscious to the floor on the
other side. After a time, which seemed like an eternity, Dorothy and the
other girl felt their senses slowly leave them.

With four unconscious passengers, the space-car hurtled through empty
space, its already inconceivable velocity being augmented every second
by a quantity bringing its velocity near to that of light, driven onward
by the incredible power of the disintegrating copper bar.

* * * * *

Seaton had gone only a short distance from his sweetheart's home when
over the purring of his engine he thought he heard Dorothy's voice
raised in a scream. He did not wait to make sure, but whirled his
machine about and the purring changed instantly to a staccato roar as he
threw open the throttle and advanced the spark. Gravel flew from beneath
his skidding wheels as he negotiated the turn into the Vaneman grounds
at suicidal speed. But with all his haste he arrived upon the scene just
in time to see the door of the space-car close. Before he could reach it
the vessel disappeared, with nothing to mark its departure save a
violent whirl of grass and sod, uprooted and carried far into the air by
the vacuum of its wake. To the excited tennis-players and the screaming
mother of the abducted girl it seemed as though the great metal ball had
vanished utterly--only Seaton, knowing what to expect, saw the line it
made in the air and saw for an instant a minute dot in the sky before it
disappeared.

Interrupting the clamor of the young people, each of whom was trying to
tell him what had happened, he spoke to Mrs. Vaneman.

"Mother, Dottie's all right," he said rapidly but gently. "Steel's got
her, but they won't keep her long. Don't worry, we'll get her. It may
take a week or it may take a year, but we'll bring her back," and
leaping upon his motorcycle, he shattered all the speed laws on his way
to Crane's house.

"Mart!" he yelled, rushing into the shop, "they've got Dottie, in a bus
made from our plans. Let's go!" as he started on a run for the testing
shed.

"Wait a minute!" crisply shouted Crane. "Don't go off half-cocked. What
is your plan?"

"Plan, hell!" barked the enraged chemist. "Chase 'em!"

"Which way did they go, and when?"

"Straight up, full power, twenty minutes ago."

"Too long ago. Straight up has changed its direction several degrees
since then. They may have covered a million miles, or they may have come
back and landed next door. Sit down and think--we need all your brains
now."

Regaining his self-possession as the wisdom of his friend's advice came
home to him, Seaton sat down and pulled out his pipe. There was a tense
silence for an instant. Then he leaped to his feet and darted into his
room, returning with an object-compass whose needle pointed upward.

"DuQuesne did it," he cried exultantly. "This baby is still looking
right at him. Now let's go--make it snappy!"

"Not yet. We should find out how far away they are; that may give us an
idea."

Suiting action to word, he took up his stopwatch and set the needle
swinging. They watched it with strained faces as second after second
went by and it still continued to swing. When it had come to rest Crane
read his watch and made a rapid calculation.

"About three hundred and fifty million miles," he stated. "Clear out of
our solar system already, and from the distance covered he must have had
a constant acceleration so as to approximate the velocity of light, and
he is still going with full...."

"But nothing can possibly go that fast, Mart, it's impossible. How about
Einstein's theory?"

"That is a theory, this measurement of distance is a fact, as you know
from our tests."

"That's right. Another good theory gone to pot. But how do you account
for his distance? D'you suppose he's lost control?"

"He must have. I do not believe that he would willingly stand that
acceleration, nor that he would have gone that far of his own accord. Do
you?"

"I sure don't. We don't know how big a bar they are carrying, so we
can't estimate how long it is going to take us to catch them. But let's
not waste any more time, Mart. For Cat's sake, let's get busy!"

"We have only those four bars, Dick--two for each unit. Do you think
that will be enough? Think of how far we may have to go, what we may
possibly get into, and what it will mean to Dottie if we fail for lack
of power."

Seaton, though furiously eager to be off, paused at this new idea, and
half-regretfully he replied:

"We are so far behind them already that I guess a few hours more won't
make much difference. It sure would be disastrous to get out near one of
the fixed stars and have our power quit. I guess you're right, we'd
better get a couple more--make it four, then we'll have enough to chase
them half our lives. We'd better load up on grub and X-plosive
ammunition, too."

* * * * *

While Crane and Shiro carried additional provisions and boxes of
cartridges into the "Skylark," Seaton once more mounted his motorcycle
and sped across the city to the brass foundry. The manager of the plant
took his order, but blandly informed him that there was not that much
copper in the city, that it would be a week or ten days before the order
could be filled. Seaton suggested that they melt up some copper cable
and other goods already manufactured, offering ten times their value,
but the manager was obdurate, saying that he could not violate the rule
of priority of orders. Seaton then went to other places, endeavoring to
buy scrap copper, trolley wire, electric cable, anything made of the
ruddy metal, but found none for sale in quantities large enough to be of
any use. After several hours of fruitless search, he returned home in a
towering rage and explained to Crane, in lurid language, his failure to
secure the copper. The latter was unmoved.

"After you left, it occurred to me that you might not get any. You see,
Steel is still watching us."

Fire shot from Seaton's eyes.

"I'm going to clean up that bunch," he gritted through his teeth as he
started straight for the door.

"Not yet, Dick," Crane remonstrated. "We can go down to Wilson's in a
few minutes, and I know we can get it there if he has it. The "Skylark"
is all ready to travel."

No more words were needed. They hurried into the space-car and soon were
standing in the office of the plant in which the vessel had been built.
When they had made their wants known, the iron-master shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Crane, but I have only a few pounds of copper in the shop,
and we have no suitable furnace."

Seaton broke out violently at this, but Crane interrupted him,
explaining their inability to get the metal anywhere else and the
urgency of their need. When he had finished, Wilson brought his fist
down upon his desk.

"I'll get it if I have to melt up our dynamos," he roared. "We'll have
to rig a crucible, but we'll have your bars out just as soon as the
whole force of this damned scrap-heap can make 'em!"

Calling in his foreman, he bellowed orders, and while automobiles
scoured the nearby towns for scrap copper, the crucible and molds were
made ready.

Nearly two days passed before the gleaming copper cylinders were
finished. During this time Crane added to their already complete
equipment every article he could conceive of their having any use for,
while Seaton raged up and down the plant in a black fury of impatience.
Just before the bars were ready, they made another reading on the
object-compass. Their faces grew tense and drawn and their hearts turned
sick as second followed second and minute followed minute and the needle
still oscillated. Finally, however, it came to rest, and Seaton's voice
almost failed him as he read his figures.

"Two hundred and thirty-five light-years, Mart. They're lost, and still
going. Good-bye, old scout," holding out his hand, "Tell Vaneman that
I'll bring her back or else stay out there myself."

"You must be crazy, Dick. You know I am going."

"Why? No use in both of us taking such a chance. If Dottie's gone, of
course I want to go too, but you don't."

"Nonsense, Dick. Of course this is somewhat farther than we had planned
on going for our maiden voyage, but where is the difference? It is just
as safe to go a thousand light-years as only one, and we have power and
food for any contingency. There is no more danger in this trip than
there is in one to Mars. At all events, I am going whether you want me
to or not, so save your breath."

"You lie like a thief, Mart--you know what we are up against as well as
I do. But if you insist on coming along, I'm sure glad to have you."

As their hands met in a crushing grip, the bars were brought up and
loaded into the carriers. Waving good-bye to Wilson, they closed the
massive door and took their positions. Seaton adjusted the bar parallel
with the needle of the object-compass, turned on the coil, and advanced
the speed-lever until Crane, reading the pyro-meters, warned him to slow
down, as the shell was heating. Free of the earth's atmosphere, he
slowly advanced the lever, one notch at a time, until he could no
longer support the increasing weight of his hand, but had to draw out
the rolling support designed for that emergency. He pushed the lever a
few notches farther, and felt himself forced down violently into the
seat. He was now lying at full length, the seat having automatically
moved upward so that his hand still controlled the lever. Still he kept
putting on more power, until the indicator showed that more than
three-quarters of the power was in operation and he felt that he could
stand but little more.

"How are you making it, Mart?" he asked, talking with difficulty because
of the great weight of his tongue and jaws.

"All right so far," came the response, in a hesitating, almost
stammering voice, "but I do not know how much more I can take. If you
can stand it, go ahead."

"This is enough for awhile, until we get used to it. Any time you want
to rest, tell me and I'll cut her down."

"Keep her at this for four or five hours. Then cut down until we can
walk, so that we can eat and take another reading on distance. Remember
that it will take as long to stop as it does to get up speed, and that
we must be careful not to ram them. There would be nothing left of
either car."

"All right. Talking's too darn much work, I'll talk to you again when we
ease down. I sure am glad we're on our way at last."

CHAPTER IX

Lost In Space

For forty-eight hours the uncontrolled atomic motor dragged the
masterless vessel with its four unconscious passengers through the
illimitable reaches of empty space, with an awful and constantly
increasing velocity. When only a few traces of copper remained in the
power-plant, the acceleration began to decrease and the powerful springs
began to restore the floor and the seats to their normal positions. The
last particle of copper having been transformed into energy, the speed
of the vessel became constant. Apparently motionless to those inside it,
it was in reality traversing space with a velocity thousands of times
greater than that of light. As the force which had been holding them
down was relaxed, the lungs, which had been able to secure only air
enough to maintain faint sparks of life, began to function more normally
and soon all four recovered consciousness, drinking in the life-giving
oxygen in a rapid succession of breaths so deep that it seemed as though
their lungs must burst with each inhalation.

DuQuesne was the first to gain control of himself. His first effort to
rise to his feet lifted him from the floor, and he floated lightly to
the ceiling, striking it with a gentle bump and remaining suspended in
the air. The others, who had not yet attempted to move, stared at him in
wide-eyed amazement. Reaching out and clutching one of the supporting
columns, he drew himself back to the floor and cautiously removed his
leather suit, transferring two heavy automatic pistols as he did so. By
gingerly feeling of his injured body, he discovered that no bones were
broken, although he was terribly bruised. He then glanced around to
learn how his companions were faring. He saw that they were all sitting
up, the girls resting, Perkins removing his aviator's costume.

"Good morning, Doctor DuQuesne. What happened when I kicked your
friend?"

DuQuesne smiled.

"Good morning, Miss Vaneman. Several things happened. He fell into the
controls, turning on all the juice. We left shortly afterward. I tried
to shut the power off, and in doing so I balled things up worse than
ever. Then I went to sleep, and just woke up."

"Have you any idea where we are?"

"No, but I can make a fair estimate, I think," and glancing at the empty
chamber in which the bar had been, he took out his notebook and pen and
figured for a few minutes. As he finished, he drew himself along by a
handrail to one of the windows, then to another. He returned with a
puzzled expression on his face and made a long calculation.

"I don't know exactly what to make of this," he said thoughtfully. "We
are so far away from the earth that even the fixed stars are
unrecognizable. The power was on exactly forty-eight hours, since that
is the life of that particular bar under full current. We should still
be close to our own solar system, since it is theoretically impossible
to develop any velocity greater than that of light. But in fact, we
have. I know enough about astronomy to recognize the fixed stars from
any point within a light-year or so of the sun, and I can't see a single
familiar star. I never could see how mass could be a function of
velocity, and now I am convinced that it is not. We have been
accelerating for forty-eight hours!"

He turned to Dorothy.

"While we were unconscious, Miss Vaneman, we had probably attained a
velocity of something like seven billion four hundred thirteen million
miles per second, and that is the approximate speed at which we are now
traveling. We must be nearly six quadrillion miles, and that is a space
of several hundred light-years--away from our solar system, or, more
plainly, about six times as far away from our earth as the North Star
is. We couldn't see our sun with a telescope, even if we knew which way
to look for it."

* * * * *

At this paralyzing news, Dorothy's face turned white and Margaret
Spencer quietly fainted in her seat.

"Then we can never get back?" asked Dorothy slowly.

At this question, Perkins' self-control gave way and his thin veneer of
decency disappeared completely.

"You got us into this whole thing!" he screamed as he leaped at Dorothy
with murderous fury gleaming in his pale eyes and his fingers curved
into talons. Instead of reaching her, however, he merely sprawled
grotesquely in midair, and DuQuesne knocked him clear across the vessel
with one powerful blow of his fist.

"Get back there, you cowardly cur," he said evenly. "Even though we are
a long way from home, try to remember you're a man, at least. One more
break like that and I'll throw you out of the boat. It isn't her fault
that we are out here, but our own. The blame for it is a very small
matter, anyway; the thing of importance is to get back as soon as
possible."

"But how can we get back?" asked Perkins sullenly from the corner where
he was crouching, fear in every feature. "The power is gone, the
controls are wrecked, and we are hopelessly lost in space."

"Oh, I wouldn't say 'hopelessly,'" returned the other, "I have never
been in any situation yet that I couldn't get out of, and I won't be
convinced until I am dead that I can't get out of this one. We have two
extra power bars, we can fix the board, and if I can't navigate us back
close enough to our solar system to find it, I am more of a dub than I
think I am. How about a little bite to eat?"

"Show us where it is!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Now that you mention it, I
find that I am starved to death."

DuQuesne looked at her keenly.

"I admire your nerve, Miss Vaneman. I didn't suppose that that animal
over there would show such a wide streak of yellow, but I was rather
afraid that you girls might go to pieces."

"I'm scared blue, of course," Dorothy admitted frankly, "but hysterics
won't do any good, and we simply _must_ get back."

"Certainly, we must and we will," stated DuQuesne calmly. "If you like,
you might find something for us to eat in the galley there, while I see
what I can do with this board that I wrecked with my head. By the way,
that cubby-hole there is the apartment reserved for you two ladies. We
are in rather cramped quarters, but I think you will find everything you
need."

As Dorothy drew herself along the handrail toward the room designated,
accompanied by the other girl who, though conscious, had paid little
attention to anything around her, she could not help feeling a thrill of
admiration for the splendid villain who had abducted her. Calm and cool,
always master of himself, apparently paying no attention to the terrible
bruises which disfigured half his face and doubtless half his body as
well, she admitted to herself that it was only his example, which had
enabled her to maintain her self-control in their present plight. As she
crawled over Perkins' discarded suit, she remembered that he had not
taken any weapons from it. After a rapid glance around to assure herself
that she was not being watched, she quickly searched the coat, bringing
to light not one, but two pistols, which she thrust into her pocket. She
saw with relief that they were regulation army automatics, with whose
use she was familiar from much target practise with Seaton.

In the room, which was a miniature of the one she had seen on the
Skylark, the girls found clothing, toilet articles, and everything
necessary for a long trip. As they were setting themselves to rights,
Dorothy electing to stay in her riding suit, they surveyed each other
frankly and each was reassured by what she saw. Dorothy saw a girl of
twenty-two, of her own stature, with a mass of heavy, wavy black hair.
Her eyes, a singularly rich and deep brown, contrasted strangely with
the beautiful ivory of her skin. She was normally a beautiful girl,
thought Dorothy, but her beauty was marred by suffering and privation.
Her naturally slender form was thin, her face was haggard and worn. The
stranger broke the silence.

* * * * *

"I'm Margaret Spencer," she began abruptly, "former secretary to His
Royal Highness, Brookings of Steel. They swindled my father out of an
invention worth millions and he died, broken-hearted. I got the job to
see if I couldn't get enough evidence to convict them, and I had quite a
lot when they caught me. I had some things that they were afraid to
lose, and I had them so well hidden that they couldn't find them, so
they kidnapped me to make me give them back. They haven't dared kill me
so far for fear the evidence will show up after my death--which it will.
However, I will be legally dead before long, and then they know the
whole thing will come out, so they have brought me out here to make me
talk or kill me. Talking won't do me any good now, though, and I don't
believe it ever would have. They would have killed me after they got the
stuff back, anyway. So you see I, at least, will never get back to the
earth alive."

"Cheer up--we'll all get back safely."

"No, we won't. You don't know that man Perkins--if that is his name. I
never heard him called any real name before. He is simply
unspeakable--vile--hideous--everything that is base. He was my jailer,
and I utterly loathe and despise him. He is mean and underhanded and
tricky--he reminds me of a slimy, poisonous snake. He will kill me: I
know it."

"But how about Doctor DuQuesne? Surely he isn't that kind of man? He
wouldn't let him."

"I've never met him before, but from what I heard of him in the office,
he's even worse than Perkins, but in an entirely different way. There's
nothing small or mean about him, and I don't believe he would go out of
his way to hurt anyone, as Perkins would. But he is absolutely cold and
hard, a perfect fiend. Where his interests are concerned, there's
nothing under the sun, good or bad, that he won't do. But I'm glad that
Perkins had me instead of 'The Doctor,' as they call him. Perkins raises
such a bitter personal feeling, that anybody would rather die than give
up to him in anything. DuQuesne, however, would have tortured me
impersonally and scientifically--cold and self-contained all the while
and using the most efficient methods, and I am sure he would have got it
out of me some way. He always gets what he goes after."

"Oh, come, Miss Spencer!" Dorothy interrupted the half-hysterical girl.
"You're too hard on him. Didn't you see him knock Perkins down when he
came after me?"

"Well, maybe he has a few gentlemanly instincts, which he uses when he
doesn't lose anything by it. More likely he merely intended to rebuke
him for a useless action. He is a firm Pragmatist--anything that is
useful is all right, anything that is useless is a crime. More probably
yet, he wants you left alive. Of course that is his real reason. He went
to the trouble of kidnapping you, so naturally he won't let Perkins or
anybody else kill you until he is through with you. Otherwise he would
have let Perkins do anything he wanted to with you, without lifting a
finger."

"I can't quite believe that," Dorothy replied, though a cold chill
struck at her heart as she remembered the inhuman crime attributed to
this man, and she quailed at the thought of being in his charge,
countless millions of miles from earth, a thought only partly
counteracted by the fact that she was now armed. "He has treated us with
every consideration so far, let's hope for the best. Anyway, I'm sure
that we'll get back safely."

"Why so sure? Have you something up your sleeve?"

"No--or yes, in a way I have, though nothing very definite. I'm Dorothy
Vaneman, and I am engaged to the man who discovered the thing that makes
this space-car go...."

"That's why they kidnapped you, then--to make him give up all his rights
to it. It's like them."

"Yes, I think that's why they did it. But they won't keep me long. Dick
Seaton will find me, I know. I feel it."

"But that's exactly what they want!" cried Margaret excitedly. "In my
spying around I heard a little about this very thing--the name Seaton
brings it to my mind. His car is broken in some way, so that it will
kill him the first time he tries to run it."

"That's where they underestimated Dick and his partner. You have heard
of Martin Crane, of course?"

"I think I heard his name mentioned in the office, together with
Seaton's, but that's all."

"Well, besides other things, Martin is quite a wonderful mechanic, and
he found out that our Skylark was spoiled. So they built another one, a
lot bigger, and I am sure that they are following us, right now."

"But how can they possibly follow us, when we are going so fast and are
so far away?" queried the other girl, once more despondent.

"I don't quite know, but I do know that Dick will find a way. He's
simply wonderful. He knows more now than that Doctor DuQuesne will ever
learn in all his life, and he will find us in a few days. I feel it in
my bones. Besides, I picked Perkins' pockets of these two pistols. Can
you shoot an automatic?"

"Yes," replied the other girl, as she seized one of the guns, assured
herself that its magazine was full, and slipped it into her pocket. "I
used to practise a lot with my father's. This makes me feel a whole lot
better. And call me Peggy, won't you? It will seem good to hear my name
again. After what I've been through lately, even this trip will be a
vacation for me."

"Well, then, cheer up, Peggy dear, we're going to be great friends.
Let's go get us all something to eat. I'm simply starved, and I know you
are, too."

* * * * *

The presence of the pistol in her pocket and Dorothy's unwavering faith
in her lover, lifted the stranger out of the mood of despair into which
the long imprisonment, the brutal treatment, and the present situation
had plunged her, and she was almost cheerful as they drew themselves
along the hand-rail leading to the tiny galley.

"I simply can't get used to the idea of nothing having any weight--look
here!" laughed Dorothy, as she took a boiled ham out of the refrigerator
and hung it upon an imaginary hook in the air, where it remained
motionless. "Doesn't it make you feel funny?"

"It is a queer sensation. I feel light, like a toy balloon, and I feel
awfully weird inside. If we have no weight, why does it hurt so when we
bump into anything? And when you throw anything, like the Doctor did
Perkins, why does it hit as hard as ever?"

"It's mass or inertia or something like that. A thing has it everywhere,
whether it weighs anything or not. Dick explained it all to me. I
understood it when he told me about it, but I'm afraid it didn't sink in
very deep. Did you ever study physics?"

"I had a year of it in college, but it was more or less of a joke. I
went to a girls' school, and all we had to do in physics was to get the
credit; we didn't have to learn it."

"Me too. Next time I go to school I'm going to Yale or Harvard or some
such place, and I'll learn so much mathematics and science that I'll
have to wear a bandeau to keep my massive intellect in place."

During this conversation they had prepared a substantial luncheon and
had arranged it daintily upon two large trays, in spite of the
difficulty caused by the fact that nothing would remain in place by its
own weight. The feast prepared, Dorothy took her tray from the table as
carefully as she could, and saw the sandwiches and bottles start to
float toward the ceiling. Hastily inverting the tray above the escaping
viands, she pushed them back down upon the table. In doing so she lifted
herself clear from the floor, as she had forgotten to hold herself down.

"What'll we do, anyway?" she wailed when she had recovered her position.
"Everything wants to fly all over the place!"

"Put another tray on top of it and hold them together," suggested
Margaret. "I wish we had a birdcage. Then we could open the door and
grab a sandwich as it flies out."

By covering the trays the girls finally carried the luncheon out into
the main compartment, where they gave DuQuesne and Perkins one of the
trays and all fell to eating hungrily. DuQuesne paused with a glint of
amusement in his one sound eye as he saw Dorothy trying to pour ginger
ale out of a bottle.

"It can't be done, Miss Vaneman. You'll have to drink it through a
straw. That will work, since our air pressure is normal. Be careful not
to choke on it, though; your swallowing will have to be all muscular out
here. Gravity won't help you. Or wait a bit--I have the control board
fixed and it will be a matter of only a few minutes to put in another
bar and get enough acceleration to take the place of gravity."

He placed one of the extra power bars in the chamber and pushed the
speed lever into the first notch, and there was a lurch of the whole
vessel as it swung around the bar so that the floor was once more
perpendicular to it. He took a couple of steps, returned, and advanced
the lever another notch.

"There that's about the same as gravity. Now we can act like human
beings and eat in comfort."

"That's a wonderful relief, Doctor!" cried Dorothy. "Are we going back
toward the earth?"

"Not yet. I reversed the bar, but we will have to use up all of this one
before we can even start back. Until this bar is gone we will merely be
slowing down."

* * * * *

As the meal progressed, Dorothy noticed that DuQuesne's left arm seemed
almost helpless, and that he ate with great difficulty because of his
terribly bruised face. As soon as they had removed the trays she went
into her room, where she had seen a small medicine chest, and brought
out a couple of bottles.

"Lie down here, Doctor DuQuesne," she commanded. "I'm going to apply a
little first-aid to the injured. Arnica and iodine are all I can find,
but they'll help a little."

"I'm all right," began the scientist, but at her imperious gesture he
submitted, and she bathed his battered features with the healing lotion
and painted the worst bruises with iodine.

"I see your arm is lame. Where does it hurt?"

"Shoulder's the worst. I rammed it through the board when we started
out."

He opened his shirt at the throat and bared his shoulder, and Dorothy
gasped--as much at the size and power of the muscles displayed, as at
the extent and severity of the man's injuries. Stepping into the
gallery, she brought out hot water and towels and gently bathed away the
clotted blood that had been forced through the skin.

"Massage it a little with the arnica as I move the arm," he directed
coolly, and she did so, pityingly. He did not wince and made no sign of
pain, but she saw beads of perspiration appear upon his face, and
wondered at his fortitude.

"That's fine," he said gratefully as she finished, and a peculiar
expression came over his face. "It feels one hundred per cent better
already. But why do you do it? I should think you would feel like
crowning me with that basin instead of playing nurse."

"Efficiency," she replied with a smile. "I'm taking a leaf out of your
own book. You are our chief engineer, you know, and it won't do to have
you laid up."

"That's a logical explanation, but it doesn't go far enough," he
rejoined, still studying her intently. She did not reply, but turned to
Perkins.

"How are you, Mr. Perkins? Do you require medical attention?"

"No," growled Perkins from the seat in which he had crouched immediately
after eating. "Keep away from me, or I'll cut your heart out!"

"Shut up!" snapped DuQuesne. "Remember what I said?"

"I haven't done anything," snarled the other.

"I said I would throw you out if you made another break," DuQuesne
informed him evenly, "and I meant it. If you can't talk decently, keep
still. Understand that you are to keep off Miss Vaneman, words and
actions. I am in charge of her, and I will put up with no interference
whatever. This is your last warning."

"How about Spencer, then?"

"I have nothing to say about her, she's not mine," responded DuQuesne
with a shrug.

An evil light appeared in Perkins' eyes and he took out a wicked-looking
knife and began to strop it carefully upon the leather of the seat,
glaring at his victim the while.

"Well, _I_ have something to say...." blazed Dorothy, but she was
silenced by a gesture from Margaret, who calmly took the pistol from her
pocket, jerked the slide back, throwing a cartridge into the chambe

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/20869