dizzily we climbed up the ladder,scrambled out on the platform. Solid footing again! As Brice loosedthe ladder and pulled it up, there was a snap. The last cable hadgone! The cell shot down to earth with a speed that must have reducedit to a powder. Foulet and I stared after it, dazed, unbelieving.Brice's whisper hissed in our ears.
"Listen carefully," he gripped our shoulders. "I'm not mad. They shotthe stuff into me, but I found an antidote in Semple's office and usedit right away. Now listen to me! Our plane is over there," he pointedacross the platform. "It's all ready to take off. They think they'resending me off on an errand for them at dawn. It's ready for a longtrip. Go there; get in; and if any one questions you tell them it'sorders. They won't, though. No one gives orders here but Fraser."Brice nodded toward a dark heap beside the trap-door.
"You killed him?" asked Foulet.
"Stunned him," said Brice. "He may come to at any moment and if hedoes--"
"Suppose we bind him and take him in the plane?" I suggested.
Brice shook his head. "Leave him here. It's safer. Now go. Get in theplane and take off--"
"And not wait for you?" I gasped, "You're crazy--"
"I'll be there. You can pick me up later. There's no time toexplain--but you'll know. Take off; then circle around and come back.But watch out!" He gave us both a shove toward the plane, the dimshadow of which we could see across the platform.
We took a step toward it, and then turned back. How could we gowithout Brice? But he had vanished. And in the shadow of the trap doorFraser groaned.
We waited no longer. To hesitate was to court death. Deliberately, asif we were acting under orders, we walked toward the plane. As Bricehad said, it was in readiness. Evidently he was to have started atonce. We climbed in, our hearts in our throats. A mechanic steppedforward. The propeller roared. But, above the roar of the propeller weheard a yell of fury--and Fraser, dazed and reeling, came stumblingacross the platform toward us!
* * * * *
Foulet took the controls. The plane taxied across the platform,swooped into space. But it was not till it had risen and steadied thatI realized the complete idiocy of our forlorn hope of escape. Whatfools we were! And Brice--Brice must, in truth, be mad! How could weget away? How could we ever escape the terrific power of the magneticray? That ray that Fraser worked himself from his laboratory--the raythat had drawn us first across the desert to this floating island ofmadness! It would be a matter of seconds before Fraser would reach itand turn it on us. There was no escape--none!
In despair I looked back at the platform. To eyes ignorant of itshorror it would have been an amazing and gorgeous sight. The crimsonlamps of the magnetic ray bloomed like huge desert flowers on the sandtwo thousand feet below us; the rays flamed up with the glory of anItalian sunset and, poised in space like a dark butterfly, floated thehuge platform bathed in its rosy light. It was beautiful. It wasunbelievable. It was horrible. I gazed, fascinated. When would Fraserreach the lamp? When would he turn it on? I stared at the dark shadowthat I knew was the laboratory building. My eyes strained through thegrowing distance. When would the glow come? That glow that meant ourdeath!
Suddenly I gasped. The light had gone! The great lamps down on thedesert floor were out! Darkness, swift, comforting, wrapped us invelvet folds.
"Brice!" I yelled. "Brice has cut off the lamps--he's released theplatform. God! Look--Foulet!" My voice tore through my throat; my eyesburned with sudden, blinding emotion. In the soft darkness of thestarry night I could see the platform waver, topple, rise! It rosestraight up, tilting and swaying in the light breeze. What was itFraser had said? If it was released it would go straight to the stars!It was on its way!
But Brice! Where was Brice? Was he on that terrible rising island? Istrained my eyes through the darkness. Already Foulet had banked theplane--we were circling; turning back. A tiny white speck took shapebeneath the rising island. A parachute! Brice was safe!
* * * * *
Ten minutes later we slid along the hard desert sand and came to astop. Brice came running over toward us. Foulet and I climbed out ofthe plane to meet him. Silently we gripped hands. It was a solemnmoment. Beside us reared the great plane that would take us back tosafety--back to the familiar life we knew and loved. Around usstretched the trackless wastes of the Great Arabian Desert--and above,somewhere between us and the stars, soared the floating island ofmadness.
"They believed I was mad," said Brice as we climbed back into theplane. "I watched Fraser. I spied on the men. There were about thirtyup there, and finally I saw where they regulated those lamps. The restwas easy--all except the minute when I found Fraser kneeling besidethat trap-door slicing the cables. For a second I thought it was allup."
"You got us just in time," I muttered. But you can't be grateful withan Englishman. They won't stand for it.
"Oh, bosh," Brice murmured, as the plane swung its nose toward thatfar distance that was home. "Well, it's all over--but it's a storythat can never be told. The fate of Mad Fraser will have to remain amystery--for no one would believe us if we told them!"
* * * * *
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