hasn't got the glider," muttered Foulet and his tone was tingedwith disappointment. But hardly had he spoken when, from one of themyriad roof-tops below us, rose a swift streak of shadow. So fast itflew, with such unbelievable speed, that to our eyes it was littlemore than a blur; but--
"The glider!" Brice gasped. "My God! How did he do it?" We stared,silent with amazement. The airplane, that only a second before hadflown alone, now was towing a glider--a glider that had arisen, as ifby magic, from the housetops!
Another instant and we had piled into the cockpit of the tri-motoredplane and were off on our pursuit. That pursuit that led us on and ontill, as the sun sank behind us, we found ourselves above theillimitable, tawny wastes of the great Arabian Desert.
And now--what? All day long, as I have said, the plane we werepursuing had maintained, but never increased, the distance between us.Each hour had brought us renewed hope that the next hour would bringcapture--or at least some definite clue, some shred of information.But the plane, still towing its glider, had gone on and on, steadily,imperturbably. And we dared not open fire and attempt to bring it downfor fear of destroying our one meager chance of following it to itsdestination.
* * * * *
And now it had vanished. Suddenly, unaccountably it had taken on thatterrific burst of speed which I have described. In ten minutes it hadbecome a speck on the far horizon--in another instant it was gone. Wewere alone. Night was falling. If we turned back our gas might bringus to safety. If we went on--what?
I turned to my companions. Foulet still maintained his non-committalattitude, but Brice was deeply disappointed and worried. His ruddyEnglish face was knotted in a scowl and his blue eyes were dark.Quickly he jerked his head back. We understood. Of course, turningback was the only thing to do; to go on was absurd. Our quarry hadtotally disappeared. But it was heart-breaking. Once again we hadbeen fooled and outwitted. Our disappointment filled that tiny cockpitlike a tangible mist. Brice threw over the stick with a gesture ofdisgust. In response our right wing lifted a bit, seemed to shakeitself, then settled--and the plane continued on its course. Brice'seyes flickered with surprise. He shoved the stick back, threw it overagain, but toward the opposite side. Obediently our left wing liftedas if to bank, a shudder passed through it, it dropped, the planeleveled, and went on.
Foulet leaned forward, his eyes were gleaming, his face flushed andeager. "Climb!" he yelled above the roar of the motors. "Up!" Bricenodded--but it was no use. That plane was like a live thing; nothingwe could do would swerve it from its course. We stared at one another.Were we mad? Were we under a hypnotic spell? But our minds were clear,and the idea of hypnosis was absurd, for we had tried to turn back. Itwas the machine that refused to obey.
Again Foulet leaned forward. "Drop!" he shouted. Brice nodded, but theplane refused to respond. On and on, straight as a die, it sped.
"Try slowing the motor," I yelled into Brice's ear and both Foulet andI leaned forward to watch results.
The motors slowed. Gradually the roaring, pounding hum lessened, andour speed continued! The whine of the wind in the wires abated not onewhit! The speedometer on our instrument board climbed!
Brice turned. His face, in the deepening dusk, was a blur of pastywhite. His hands hung at his sides. The motors purred, pulsed, weresilent. The plane, unaided, unguided, flew alone!
* * * * *
We sat hushed and unbelieving in that terrible, deathlike silence. Ourears, attuned all day to the deafening roar of the motors, felt as ifthey would burst in the sudden, agonizing stillness. There was not asound save the whine of the wind in the wires as the plane sped on.Above us curved the illimitable arch of darkening sky. Below us laythe empty stretch of blank desert.
We didn't speak. I know that I, for one, could not bring my voice tobreak that ominous stillness. Silently we sat there, watching,waiting.... The quick darkness of the desert fell like a velvetcurtain. The stars burst forth as if lit by an invisible hand. Fouletstirred, leaned forward, gasped. My eyes followed his gaze. Before ourplane spread a path of light, dull, ruddily glowing, like the ghost oflive embers. It cut the darkness of the night like a flamingfinger--and along it we sped as if on an invisible track!
"The speed of that other plane," muttered Brice, breaking that uttersilence, "This was it!"
Foulet and I nodded. Well could I imagine that we were travelling atthat same terrific, impossible speed. And we were helpless--helplessin the clutch of--what? What power lay behind this band of light thatdrew us irresistibly toward it?
The ruddy pathway brightened. The light grew stronger. Our speedincreased. The whine of the wires was tuned almost past human hearing.The plane trembled like a live thing in the grip of inhuman forces. Agreat glowing eye suddenly burst from the rim of the horizon--thesource of the light! Instinctively I closed my eyes. What power mightthat eye possess? The same thought must have struck Brice and Fouletfor they ducked to the floor of the cockpit, pulling me with them.
"Take care!" Brice muttered, "It might blind us."
We sat huddled in that cockpit for what seemed an eternity, though itcouldn't have been more than two minutes. The glare increased. Itthrew into sharp, uncanny relief every tiny detail of the cockpit andof our faces. The light was as powerful as a searchlight, but not soblinding. It had a rosy, diffused quality that the searchlight lacks.
* * * * *
In that eternity of tense waiting I tried to collect my thoughts. Itold myself that I must keep steady, that I must keep my mind clear. Istruggled to get a grip on myself; the light, the steady flyingwithout power, the boundless, horrible silence had shaken me. Butthere was more to come. I knew it. We all knew it. And it was notphysical strength that would pull us through--it was wits. We musthold steady. Thank God we all had years of training--war experience,peace experience, countless life-and-death adventures--behind us. Itwould all count now. It would all help us to keep out brains clear andcool. Wits, I thought again, only our wits would stand between usand--what?
The ground wheels of the plane struck something solid; rolled;stopped! The light snapped off. The sudden blackness, falling like ablanket of thick fur, choked me. In that first dazed, gasping instantI was conscious of only one thing. The plane was no longer in motion.But we had not dropped; of that I was sure. We were still, as we hadbeen, close to two thousand feet above the earth!
Then came the sound of running feet and a confused blur of voices. Thedoor of the cockpit was thrown open. A man leaned in, his hand on thejamb.
"Inspector Brice," he said quietly. "Monsieur Foulet. LieutenantAinslee. We are glad to welcome you." His words were courteous, butsomething in his tone sent a tingling chill down my spine. It wascold, as soulless as the clink of metal. It was dull, without life orinflection. But there was something else--something I could not name.
* * * * *
I was nearest the door and scrambled out first. To my surprise it wasnot dark. We were enveloped by a radiance, rosy as the broad ray hadbeen, but fainter, like the afterglow of a sunset. By this light Icould make out, vaguely, our surroundings. We seemed to be on aplateau; a great flat space probably an acre in extent, surrounded bya six-foot wall. Behind us there was a wide gateway through which ourairplane had just come and across which workmen were dropping barsmade of some material like cement. Before us, dotting this acre or soof plateau, were small, domed structures made of the same cement-likematerial. In the center of the plateau rose a larger domed buildingwith a segment of its roof open to the stars and through this openingI could see the shadowy suggestion of a great lamp. There was thesource of that powerful magnetic ray!
Foulet and Brice scrambled out and stood beside me. They said never aword, but I knew that every sense was alert.
"If you will follow me," that same cold, expressionless voicemurmured. I turned to look at the man. He was not bad looking, cleanshaven, well tailored. He swung his eyes to meet my gaze and
as he didso that same chill fled along my spine. His eyes--what was the matterwith them? They were dark--brown or black--and as shiny as shoebuttons. But there was no gleam of expression in them. Their shine wasthe glitter of polished glass.
Without a word we followed him across the small cleared space whereour airplane stood, past a row of the small, domed structures to a lowdoor cut in the white wall of the great central building. At thedoorway he turned.
"I am taking you to the Master," he said; then, over his shoulder headded. "There is no means of escape--we are two thousand feet abovethe earth!" And he laughed--a quick, short cackle of crazy laughter. Ifelt the breath catch in my throat and the short hairs prickle at myneck. Foulet gripped my arm. Through my coat I could feel the chill ofhis fingers, but his grasp steadied me.
We walked on, following our guide. Down a narrow passageway, through alow arched door into a small