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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29421-8.txt b/29421-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb745e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/29421-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1628 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Floating Island of Madness, by Jason Kirby + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: The Floating Island of Madness + +Author: Jason Kirby + +Release Date: July 16, 2009 [EBook #29421] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOATING ISLAND OF MADNESS *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Astounding Stories January 1933. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the + U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + The Floating Island of Madness + + + By Jason Kirby + + * * * * * + + + + +[Sidenote: Far above the Arabian Desert three Secret Service men find +an aerial island whose inhabitants are--madmen.] + + +Above us curved the pale, hot bowl of cloudless sky; below us +stretched the rolling, tawny wastes of the great Arabian Desert; and +away to the east, close to the dipping horizon, scudded the tiny speck +we were following. We had been following it since dawn and it was now +close to sunset. Where was it leading us? Should we go on or turn +back? How much longer would our gas and oil hold out? And just where +were we? I turned and saw my questions reflected in the eyes of my +companions, Paul Foulet of the French Sureté and Douglas Brice of +Scotland Yard. + +"Too fast!" shouted Brice above the roar of our motors. I nodded. His +gesture explained his meaning. The plane ahead had suddenly taken on a +terrific, unbelievable speed. All day it had traveled normally, +maintaining, but not increasing, the distance between us. But in the +last fifteen minutes it had leaped into space. Fifteen minutes before +it had been two miles in the lead; now it was barely visible. A tiny, +vanishing speck. What could account for this burst of superhuman +speed? Who was in that plane? _What_ was in that plane? + +I glanced at Foulet. He shrugged non-committally, waving a courteous +hand toward Brice. I understood; I agreed with him. This was Brice's +party, and the decision was up to him. Foulet and I just happened to +be along; it was partly design and partly coincidence. + + * * * * * + +Two days before I had been in Constantinople. I was disheartened and +utterly disgusted. All the way from the home office of the United +States Secret Service in Washington I had trailed my man, only to lose +him. On steamships, by railway, airplane and motor we had +traveled--always with my quarry just one tantalizing jump ahead of +me--and in Constantinople I had lost him. And it was a ruse a child +should have seen through. I could have beaten my head against a wall. + +And then, suddenly, I had run into Foulet. Not ten days before I had +talked to him in his office in Paris. I had told him a little of my +errand, for I was working on the hunch that this man I was after +concerned not only the United States, but France and the Continent as +well. And what Foulet told me served only to strengthen my conviction. +So, meeting him in Constantinople was a thin ray of light in my +disgusted darkness. At least I could explode to a kindred spirit. + +"Lost your man!" was his greeting. And it wasn't a question; it was a +statement. + +"How did you know?" I growled. My humiliation was too fresh to stand +kidding. + +"Constantinople," said Foulet amiably. "You always lose them in +Constantinople. I've lost three here." + +"Three?" I said, "Like mine!" + +"Exactly," he nodded. Then he lowered his voice. "Come to my hotel. We +can talk there." + +"Now," he continued fifteen minutes later as we settled ourselves in +his room, "you were very circumspect in Paris. You told me +little--just a hint here and there. But it was enough. You--the United +States--have joined our ranks--" + +"You mean--" + +"I mean that for a year we, the various secret service organizations +of the Continent--and that includes, of course, Scotland Yard--have +been after--Well, to be frank, we don't know what we're after. But we +do know this. There is a power--there is someone, somewhere, who is +trying to conquer the world." + +[Illustration: _A white speck took shape beneath the rising Island._] + +"Are you serious?" I glanced at him but the tight lines of his set +mouth convinced me. "I beg your pardon," I murmured. "Go ahead." + +"I don't blame you for thinking it was a jest," he said imperturbably, +"But, to prove I know what I'm talking about, let me tell you what +this man has done whom you have been pursuing. He has done one of two +things. Either he has proved himself a dangerous revolutionary or he +has engineered the failure of a bank or chain of banks--" + +"We can't prove it," I interrupted. + +"No," said Foulet, "Neither can we. Neither can Scotland Yard--or the +secret services of Belgium or Germany or Italy or Spain. But there you +are--" + +"You mean that in all these countries--?" + +"I mean that for a year--probably longer--these countries have been +and are being steadily, and systematically, undermined. The morale of +the people is being weakened; their faith in their government is being +betrayed--and someone is behind it. Someone who can think faster and +plan more carefully than we--someone whose agents we always lose in +Constantinople! I'll wager you lost your man from a roof-top." + +I nodded, my disgust at my own stupidity returning in full force. +"There was a lower roof and a maze of crisscross alleys," I muttered. +"He got away." + +"Was there an airplane anywhere around?" asked Foulet. + +I glanced at him in surprise. What good would an airplane have been on +a roof-top ten feet wide by twelve feet long? Then I remembered. +"There was an airplane," I said, "but it was a long way off, and I +could scarcely see it; but the air was very still and I heard the +motor." + +Foulet nodded, "And if you had had a pair of glasses," he said gently, +"You would have seen that the airplane had a glider attached to it. +There is always an airplane--and a glider--when we lose our men from +the roofs of Constantinople." + +"But that must be coincidence!" I insisted. "Why, I was on that roof +right on the fellow's heels--and the airplane was at least five miles +away!" + +Foulet shrugged, "Coincidence--possibly," he said, "but it is our only +clue." + +"Of course," I murmured thoughtfully, "you have never been able to +follow--" + +Foulet smiled, "Can you imagine where that airplane would be by the +time we climbed down off our roofs and got to a flying field and +started in pursuit?" + + * * * * * + +We descended for dinner. Foulet's story had restored my +self-confidence somewhat--but I was still sore. Of course Foulet +connecting my vanishing man with that disappearing airplane was +absurd--but where had the man gone? Was my supposition that he had +jumped to a lower roof, climbed a wall and run through the maze of +alleyways in half a minute in any way less absurd? + +We were halfway through dinner when Brice appeared. Brice was one of +the best men in Scotland Yard and I had known him many years. So, +evidently, had Foulet, for his eyes flickered faintly with pleased +surprise at the sight of him. Brice came directly to our table. He was +bursting with victorious joy. I could feel it somehow, although his +face, carefully schooled to betray no emotion, was placid and casual. + +All through the remainder of the meal I could feel the vibrations of +his excitement. But it was only at the very end that he confided +anything--and his confidence only served to make the excitement and +sense of impending thrill greater. + +Just as he was rising to leave he shoved a tiny strip of paper across +the table to me with a sidelong glance at Foulet. "Another roof-top," +I read scrawled in pencil. "If you like, meet me at the flying field +before dawn." If I liked! I shoved the paper across to Foulet who read +it and carelessly twisted it into a spill to light his cigar. But his +hand shook ever so slightly. + +Needless to say we went to the flying field shortly after midnight. +Bruce was there, pacing up and down restlessly. Near him was a huge +tri-motored biplane, its motor humming in readiness. + +"I've put a man on the trail in my place," Brice told us briefly. +"Somebody else is going to lose the scent on a roof-top--and I'm going +to watch." + + * * * * * + +We settled to our wait. To me it seemed absurdly hopeless. The flying +field was on a slight rise. Below us spread the dark shadow that was +Constantinople. There was no moon to give it form and substance--it +was just a lake of deeper darkness, a spreading mass of silent +roof-tops and minarets. How did Brice expect to see his quarry escape? +Suppose he fled during the night? And even with daylight-- + +The first streaks of dawn found us still waiting, our ears strained +for the hum of an airplane motor. But hardly had the golden rim of the +sun appeared over the horizon when it came. It came from the +east--straight out of the golden glory of the sun. Nearer and nearer +it came; an airplane--alone. + +"It hasn't got the glider," muttered Foulet and his tone was tinged +with disappointment. But hardly had he spoken when, from one of the +myriad roof-tops below us, rose a swift streak of shadow. So fast it +flew, with such unbelievable speed, that to our eyes it was little +more 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 had +flown alone, now was towing a glider--a glider that had arisen, as if +by magic, from the housetops! + +Another instant and we had piled into the cockpit of the tri-motored +plane and were off on our pursuit. That pursuit that led us on and on +till, as the sun sank behind us, we found ourselves above the +illimitable, tawny wastes of the great Arabian Desert. + +And now--what? All day long, as I have said, the plane we were +pursuing had maintained, but never increased, the distance between us. +Each hour had brought us renewed hope that the next hour would bring +capture--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 down +for fear of destroying our one meager chance of following it to its +destination. + + * * * * * + +And now it had vanished. Suddenly, unaccountably it had taken on that +terrific burst of speed which I have described. In ten minutes it had +become a speck on the far horizon--in another instant it was gone. We +were alone. Night was falling. If we turned back our gas might bring +us to safety. If we went on--what? + +I turned to my companions. Foulet still maintained his non-committal +attitude, but Brice was deeply disappointed and worried. His ruddy +English face was knotted in a scowl and his blue eyes were dark. +Quickly he jerked his head back. We understood. Of course, turning +back was the only thing to do; to go on was absurd. Our quarry had +totally disappeared. But it was heart-breaking. Once again we had +been fooled and outwitted. Our disappointment filled that tiny cockpit +like a tangible mist. Brice threw over the stick with a gesture of +disgust. In response our right wing lifted a bit, seemed to shake +itself, then settled--and the plane continued on its course. Brice's +eyes flickered with surprise. He shoved the stick back, threw it over +again, but toward the opposite side. Obediently our left wing lifted +as if to bank, a shudder passed through it, it dropped, the plane +leveled, and went on. + +Foulet leaned forward, his eyes were gleaming, his face flushed and +eager. "Climb!" he yelled above the roar of the motors. "Up!" Brice +nodded--but it was no use. That plane was like a live thing; nothing +we 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. It +was the machine that refused to obey. + +Again Foulet leaned forward. "Drop!" he shouted. Brice nodded, but the +plane 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 and +I leaned forward to watch results. + +The motors slowed. Gradually the roaring, pounding hum lessened, and +our speed continued! The whine of the wind in the wires abated not one +whit! The speedometer on our instrument board climbed! + +Brice turned. His face, in the deepening dusk, was a blur of pasty +white. His hands hung at his sides. The motors purred, pulsed, were +silent. The plane, unaided, unguided, flew alone! + + * * * * * + +We sat hushed and unbelieving in that terrible, deathlike silence. Our +ears, attuned all day to the deafening roar of the motors, felt as if +they would burst in the sudden, agonizing stillness. There was not a +sound 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 lay +the empty stretch of blank desert. + +We didn't speak. I know that I, for one, could not bring my voice to +break that ominous stillness. Silently we sat there, watching, +waiting.... The quick darkness of the desert fell like a velvet +curtain. The stars burst forth as if lit by an invisible hand. Foulet +stirred, leaned forward, gasped. My eyes followed his gaze. Before our +plane spread a path of light, dull, ruddily glowing, like the ghost of +live embers. It cut the darkness of the night like a flaming +finger--and along it we sped as if on an invisible track! + +"The speed of that other plane," muttered Brice, breaking that utter +silence, "This was it!" + +Foulet and I nodded. Well could I imagine that we were travelling at +that same terrific, impossible speed. And we were helpless--helpless +in the clutch of--what? What power lay behind this band of light that +drew us irresistibly toward it? + +The ruddy pathway brightened. The light grew stronger. Our speed +increased. The whine of the wires was tuned almost past human hearing. +The plane trembled like a live thing in the grip of inhuman forces. A +great glowing eye suddenly burst from the rim of the horizon--the +source of the light! Instinctively I closed my eyes. What power might +that eye possess? The same thought must have struck Brice and Foulet +for 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 it +couldn't have been more than two minutes. The glare increased. It +threw into sharp, uncanny relief every tiny detail of the cockpit and +of our faces. The light was as powerful as a searchlight, but not so +blinding. It had a rosy, diffused quality that the searchlight lacks. + + * * * * * + +In that eternity of tense waiting I tried to collect my thoughts. I +told myself that I must keep steady, that I must keep my mind clear. I +struggled to get a grip on myself; the light, the steady flying +without power, the boundless, horrible silence had shaken me. But +there was more to come. I knew it. We all knew it. And it was not +physical strength that would pull us through--it was wits. We must +hold steady. Thank God we all had years of training--war experience, +peace experience, countless life-and-death adventures--behind us. It +would all count now. It would all help us to keep out brains clear and +cool. Wits, I thought again, only our wits would stand between us +and--what? + +The ground wheels of the plane struck something solid; rolled; +stopped! The light snapped off. The sudden blackness, falling like a +blanket of thick fur, choked me. In that first dazed, gasping instant +I 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 had +been, close to two thousand feet above the earth! + +Then came the sound of running feet and a confused blur of voices. The +door of the cockpit was thrown open. A man leaned in, his hand on the +jamb. + +"Inspector Brice," he said quietly. "Monsieur Foulet. Lieutenant +Ainslee. We are glad to welcome you." His words were courteous, but +something in his tone sent a tingling chill down my spine. It was +cold, as soulless as the clink of metal. It was dull, without life or +inflection. But there was something else--something I could not name. + + * * * * * + +I was nearest the door and scrambled out first. To my surprise it was +not dark. We were enveloped by a radiance, rosy as the broad ray had +been, but fainter, like the afterglow of a sunset. By this light I +could make out, vaguely, our surroundings. We seemed to be on a +plateau; a great flat space probably an acre in extent, surrounded by +a six-foot wall. Behind us there was a wide gateway through which our +airplane had just come and across which workmen were dropping bars +made of some material like cement. Before us, dotting this acre or so +of plateau, were small, domed structures made of the same cement-like +material. In the center of the plateau rose a larger domed building +with a segment of its roof open to the stars and through this opening +I could see the shadowy suggestion of a great lamp. There was the +source of that powerful magnetic ray! + +Foulet and Brice scrambled out and stood beside me. They said never a +word, but I knew that every sense was alert. + +"If you will follow me," that same cold, expressionless voice +murmured. I turned to look at the man. He was not bad looking, clean +shaven, well tailored. He swung his eyes to meet my gaze and as he did +so that same chill fled along my spine. His eyes--what was the matter +with them? They were dark--brown or black--and as shiny as shoe +buttons. But there was no gleam of expression in them. Their shine was +the glitter of polished glass. + +Without a word we followed him across the small cleared space where +our airplane stood, past a row of the small, domed structures to a low +door cut in the white wall of the great central building. At the +doorway he turned. + +"I am taking you to the Master," he said; then, over his shoulder he +added. "There is no means of escape--we are two thousand feet above +the earth!" And he laughed--a quick, short cackle of crazy laughter. I +felt the breath catch in my throat and the short hairs prickle at my +neck. Foulet gripped my arm. Through my coat I could feel the chill of +his fingers, but his grasp steadied me. + +We walked on, following our guide. Down a narrow passageway, through a +low arched door into a small room, evidently an ante-chamber to a +larger room beyond. Without a word our guide left us, passing through +another door which he closed after him. + +Brice and Foulet and I exchanged looks, but we were silent. It might +be we were watched. It might be that the very walls had ears. We could +trust nothing. + +Our guide returned. "The Master," he said and flung open a wide door. + + * * * * * + +We found ourselves in a large room filled with paraphernalia of all +sorts: wires, lights, laboratory tables cluttered with test tubes and +apparatus--and in the midst of this ordered chaos stood a man, his +gleaming eyes watching us fixedly. + +At first I was conscious of nothing but his eyes. Large, coal black +and shiny with that peculiar, expressionless gloss I had noted in the +eyes of our guide. Later I realized that he was of slight build, +meticulously neat, with a tiny black waxed mustache and a carefully +trimmed Van Dyke beard. + +"Welcome to my floating island," he said gravely, never swerving those +shiny eyes for an instant. "We have hoped long for your coming." He +paused, noiselessly rubbing his hands, and watching us. We stared +back, fascinated by that glossy, fixed gaze. "There is much to tell +you," he went on, "and to ask you." He permitted himself a slow smile +that spread his lips but failed to reach his eyes. "During your stay +here," he continued, "which I hope will be both long and profitable, +you will become my slaves and will know me as Master. But before you +come under my domination you may know my name." + +For the first time he moved his eyes. His glance swept the room as if +to assure himself we were alone. He stepped, as swiftly and softly as +a cat, over to the door through which we had entered, opened it, spoke +to our guide who was waiting in the ante-room, closed it and returned. +He faced us, his lips smiling and his eyes as blank as polished agate. + +"My name," he said softly, "is Algernon--Frederick--Fraser!" He paused +and watched us. Behind me I felt Foulet start; I heard Brice's quickly +suppressed gasp. My own throat closed on words that might have been +fatal. Algernon Frederick Fraser! Was it possible? Could it be? + +Five years before Fraser had suddenly burst on the world of science. +He had made some amazing discoveries regarding the power of light; +discoveries that would reorganize the living conditions of the world. +For a week or two the papers were filled with the man's amazing +genius; then no more was heard of him. Had he died? What was the +story? + + * * * * * + +Two years passed and even the name of Fraser was forgotten. Then +suddenly it burst forth again in the headlines of the world. Fraser +had disappeared! Fraser had vanished! But not as a brilliant genius of +science; he had gone as an escaped lunatic! After his amazing burst of +fame his mind snapped. Somehow the story had been kept out of the +press. + +Fraser was incarcerated in a quiet, very private asylum, and that was +all. All--until he escaped. When that happened the story couldn't be +hushed any longer. The press was informed, the people were warned. He +became known as the Mad Menace. The police and secret service +organizations of the world searched for him. His name became a byword. +Where had he gone? What would he do? What was his scheme? For he was +still the astounding scientific genius. That portion of his mind was +untouched. At the time of his escape the physicians in charge of the +case assured the press that Fraser's scientific mind was every bit as +sound as ever. + +And that was all. Aside from his god Science he was a maniac--inhuman, +cruel, unreasoning. What would such a man do loosed in the world? What +might he not do? Was it possible that it was this man who stood before +us now with his eyes fastened upon us so intently and his lips spread +in that little, empty smile? Suddenly I knew! Those eyes! Those eyes +were the shiny, vacuous, soulless eyes of a madman! + +"I see," he said softly, "that you have heard of me. But it is three +years since your world has seen me--yes?" He laughed--a low laugh that +seemed to freeze the air around him. "They call me mad." His smile +faded, his eyes bored through us like steel needles. "I am not mad! No +madman could do what I have done in three years!" For the first time +an expression flickered in his eyes--a crafty gleam of vanity that +flared instantaneously. "Would you like to see?" He leaned toward us. +We bowed, but it was Brice who spoke. + +"Very much, Doctor Fraser--" + +"Don't call me that!" The man whirled like a tiger ready to spring. +"Don't call me that! I am Master here! Call me Master! Say it." His +voice rose to a shriek. "Say it--Master!" + + * * * * * + +I clamped my teeth against the bloodless horror of that maniacal +voice. It chilled my veins. Again I felt the hair rise on my scalp. +Brice bowed quietly; and his eyes, serene and blue, met Fraser's +fairly. + +"Of course, Master." His low English voice soothed the bristling +silence. "I am sure I speak for Monsieur Foulet and Lieutenant Ainslee +when I say that we would be most deeply interested in your +achievements." + +Fraser was placated. He relaxed. He softly rubbed his hands while a +smug, crafty smile flitted across his lips. "You will follow me," he +murmured. + +He led the way back through the ante-room and down the passageway till +we stood again under the stars, and again I was struck by the strange +light, warm and faint and rosy like a sunset afterglow. As if he read +my thought Fraser turned to me. + +"I will show you first the source of this rosy light; that, I believe, +will explain a great deal." He led the way down one of the narrow +pathways between the low, domed houses--if they could be called +houses, for they were little larger than kennels. At the six-foot wall +that surrounded this plateau he paused. "Would you like to look over +the wall?" he asked. + +For the space of a breath we hesitated. Was this a trap? Through my +mind flashed the words of the man who had guided us to Fraser. "You +are two thousand feet above the earth," he had said. Was that true? +And if it were, might not Fraser push us over the wall? But instantly +logic came to my rescue. Fraser had brought us here, and he could have +brought us for but one thing: to question us. Would he be apt to do us +harm before those questions were asked? And besides, would Fraser's +brilliantly subtle mind stoop so low as to destroy enemies by pushing +them over a wall? + +"Thank you," we murmured simultaneously. "This whole achievement is of +tremendous interest to us," Foulet added. + +Fraser chuckled. "It will be of greater interest--later," he said, and +his blank, glittering eyes rested on first one of us, then another +with a cold, satisfied gleam. Then he lifted his hand and opened a +square door in the wall about the size of a port-hole. To my surprise +the little door swung back as lightly as a feather and made scarcely a +sound as it slammed against the wall itself. Again Fraser answered my +unspoken thought. + +"It has only substance," he said with his vain smirk. "No weight +whatever. This entire platform together with its huts is lighter than +air. If I should tear loose this little door it would float out of my +hands instantly and go straight up to the stars. The substance--I have +called it Fleotite--is not only lighter than air but lighter than +ether." + +"But we are not floating," said Brice; "we are stationary. Is the +lightness of your Fleotite counteracted by the weight of the men and +machines?" + +Fraser shook his head. "Not entirely," he said. "But first look +through this little window. Then I will explain." + + * * * * * + +Eagerly we pressed forward. Our danger was almost forgotten in our +interest. This was amazing--stupendous! Together, shoulder to +shoulder, we gazed through the aperture. We were suspended in space! +Above us shone the blue-black Arabian night, and beneath us--far, far +beneath--lay the sands of the desert looking rosy and warm in that +same dull red glare of light that, to a fainter degree, gave us the +effect of afterglow. But we were not floating; we were anchored as +securely as a ship riding in a calm harbor. + +We turned back to Fraser, amazed, awed, bursting with questions. +Madman he might be, but he had wrought a miracle. + +"I will explain," he said and his eyes gleamed with pride. "Of course +you know of my tremendous discoveries connected with the power of +light. At any rate, five years ago, the scientific world on earth +thought they were tremendous. In reality that was nothing to my +amazing strides in the past three years. There is nothing that cannot +be done with light! Nothing!" For the first time Fraser's eyes became +alive. They were illumined. His whole body seemed to radiate light and +fire and genius. We listened, fascinated. + +"Take, for instance," he continued eagerly, "that ray with which I +drew you and your plane to me. That ray is the pure power of +magnetism. At full strength it will draw anything to it instantly. +Fortunately the power can be regulated: I can switch a lever in my +laboratory and draw things to me, via the ray, at any speed I +wish--one hundred, two hundred, a thousand miles an hour." + + * * * * * + +"How far can you throw the ray?" asked Foulet, and I knew he was +thinking of that glider that rose from the roof-tops of +Constantinople. Fraser also knew he was thinking of that. + +"I did not draw the glider," he said quietly. "The airplane I sent did +that. My airplanes carry batteries of this ray. In the beginning I +found gliders to be more practical for my purposes than airplanes. For +one thing they were silent. My only problem was that of getting them +off the ground. Once they were in the air I could manage everything. +It was this problem that inspired this discovery and perfection of the +ray. But, you asked how far I can throw the ray? This main lamp, that +I operate myself from here, is effective at two hundred miles. At one +hundred miles it enjoys its full power." + +"And you can draw anything to you," asked Brice, "within the radius of +the magnetic ray?" + +"Anything in the air," answered Fraser. "But of course I must use +caution. Great caution. If I drew planes to me indiscriminately I +would draw attention to myself; my secret and my location here would +leak out. No. That must not be. So the only planes I bring are my +own--and yours." He paused and his black eyes, again glassy, swept +over us. "It is a compliment I pay you," he said finally. "You have +become too troublesome. You know too much. Sooner or later the time +would come when you would combine your forces. That would be a +nuisance. So I decided to bring you here." + +"Suppose," asked Foulet curiously, "we hadn't fallen into your trap? +Suppose we had turned back before reaching the point where your ray is +effective?" + +Fraser shook his head and that smug, offensive smile appeared again. +"You were trapped from the beginning, though you didn't know it," he +said. "The plane you were following was equipped with batteries of the +ray which, while not as powerful as the lamp I have here, were still +powerful enough to hold you to the course we choose you to run. But +enough of the ray," he added impatiently. "There are one or two other +things I want to explain and then--" he paused and the pause, somehow, +was alive with menace. What was he going to do after he had finished +treating us as honored guests? For the third time he answered my +unspoken question. His eyes narrowed till they were black, glittering +slits. His voice, as he leaned toward us, was no more than a hissing +whisper. + + * * * * * + +"Slaves!" he said, and his lips twisted. "How will you like to be +slaves of Mad Algy Fraser?" He laughed--a chuckle that started in his +throat and rose and rose till it seemed to shatter my ear-drums. I +felt my teeth grinding together and my nails bit my palms in my effort +to control my nerves against the strain of that maniacal glee. +Suddenly he sobered. His laugh died instantly like a radio that had +been snapped off. "Listen and I will tell you. I will tell you +everything because it is necessary for you to know so that you may +work for me intelligently and you will remember better and be of +greater use to me if I tell you now while you are yet--sane!" + +"Sane!" The exclamation sprang from the three of us simultaneously. I +felt a cold chill start between my shoulder blades. For an instant my +breath choked in my throat. My heart paused--and then raced. What did +he mean? What was he going to do to us? What scheme had he evolved in +his crazed brain? + +"I have perfected a serum"--his tone was professional, cold; he might +have been talking to a class in a lecture room--"a serum that robs the +patient of every vestige of human emotion--and therefore sanity. All +his intellect, his memories, however, remain, to serve him in carrying +out my orders. He loses all his will to live and resist, and becomes +nothing but an automaton, whose complete mental equipment is at my +command." + +There was silence. His glassy black eyes, blank and soulless, swept +over us. His mouth curled in that smug, complacent smile. He had us +with our shoulders to the floor. He knew it--and he knew we knew it. +There was no possible way we could escape. We were two thousand feet +above the earth. Our plane wouldn't get a quarter of a mile before the +magnetic ray would bring it back. Parachute? Even supposing we could +get parachutes where would we go? Drop two thousand feet into the +middle of the Arabian Desert? + +My brain raced. Never before had I been in such a tight place. And +soon--if Fraser had his way--I wouldn't even have a mind to think +with! I felt choked, stifled. Was there no way out? It seemed to me +that a blanket--a soft, terrible blanket of uncontrollable +circumstance--was being folded around me, robbing me of the use of my +limbs, paralyzing me, numbing me. And out of this terrible +helplessness came again Fraser's voice. + +"I have told you enough," he said suavely, "so that you may have a +faint idea of my power. I will send you now to Doctor Semple who will +administer the serum and place you under the 'nourishment ray.' This +is another of my discoveries," he added casually. "It is a ray which +allows the patient to absorb, through the shell of the skin, +sufficient nourishment, both solid and liquid, to last for twenty-four +hours." + + * * * * * + +Five minutes later we stood in a small room that might have been the +office of an up-to-date physician anywhere in the world. Across the +polished top of a mahogany desk Dr. Semple stared at us, his eyes, +like the eyes of our guide and Fraser, polished and expressionless. +But now we understood. Those eyes were expressionless because there +was nothing to give them expression. I tried to force my mind to +comprehend the almost incomprehensible. We were among men who were not +men! We were fast in the power of human beings who possessed no trace +of humanity, who had become nothing but scientific Robots even though +they still had bodies of flesh and blood! It was unbelievable! My +hands grew cold and my brain hot at the thought. Yet, gazing into the +bright, enamelled eyes of Dr. Semple, I knew it was true. + +Carefully, scientifically, we were prepared for our injections. And +with every mechanical move of the doctor my mind seemed to take on +fresh speed as it raced toward some solution to our terrible problem. +My eyes flew around the tiny office searching for some means of +escape. Doctor Semple turned to prepare the syringe. Behind his back +Brice gestured frantically. Somehow I understood. In my pocket was a +flask--a flask I had filled with drinking water in Constantinople. +Bewildered, I handed it over to him. + +The doctor turned, swabbed a patch of iodine on our arms, reached for +the syringe. As he leaned over, Foulet thrust forward a foot. The +doctor tripped, sprawled full length on the floor. Foulet and I +quickly stooped to pick him up, standing between him and +Brice--shielding his eyes so that he could not see. We fumbled to give +Brice time. We apologized and soothed. Out of the tail of my eye I +could see Brice working like lightning--emptying out the syringe of +that villainous liquid, filling it with clear water. + + * * * * * + +It was done! We raised the doctor to his feet; gave his clothes a +final brush. But as we stood back I know my hands were trembling and I +had to clamp my teeth to keep them from chattering. Were we out of +danger yet? Would the doctor discover our ruse? And, if we got out of +his office without receiving the terrible injection, could we +successfully fool Fraser and his "slaves" into believing we were mad? +Fool them until we got a chance to escape? Could we simulate that +glassy stare? Were we sufficiently good actors to get away with it? +The questions pounded and raced through my brain in that instant when +Doctor Semple turned again to his desk and picked up the syringe. + +But the miracle happened! Mechanically he gave us the injection--never +suspecting that it was not the devilish liquid he had put in, but only +clear water! Then he stepped back and watched us. Cold chills raced up +and down my spine. What were we supposed to do now? What was the +action of the serum? Did it act at once or slowly? Was it supposed to +make us sick? Did it send us to sleep? How could we simulate symptoms +when we had no idea what these symptoms were supposed to be? But the +cold voice of the doctor cut sharply across my agonized questions. + +"You will lie down here," he said, opening a door into a room whose +trails were lined with bunks, like an opium den. "In half an hour I +will come for you. By that time--" His lips spread in that same +travesty of a smile Fraser had employed. + +We filed into the room and the door closed behind us. Obediently we +lay down on the narrow bunks. We dared not speak. We scarcely dared +glance at each other. We must act, at all times, as if we were +observed. Might not Fraser have a ray that could penetrate walls? +Might he not, even now, know that we had outwitted the doctor and had +not received the fatal injection? And what then? Suppose Fraser +himself superintended another injection? I pulled my thoughts back +from the terrible supposition. One thing at a time. So far all had +gone well. I lay down on the bunk and closed my eyes. + +Half an hour later we heard the door open. Now, I, thought, when I +look up, I am supposed to be mad! I struggled to make my mind a blank. +I tried to force into my eyes that peculiar, brilliant, shiny, vacant +expression I had noticed. Would I succeed? + + * * * * * + +I raised my eyes. The doctor was standing before us. With a gesture he +bade Foulet go to him. I watched beneath lowered lids. Thank God he +had called Foulet first. Foulet had dabbled in the psychology of +insanity. Foulet would know how to act, and I would ape him. Coldly, +mechanically Doctor Semple ran him through a few tests. I watched with +bated breath. The doctor nodded. Foulet had passed! + +It was my turn. I did exactly as Foulet had done--and succeeded! I +had to turn away swiftly so that the doctor wouldn't see the gleam of +triumph in my supposedly mad eyes. + +He motioned to Brice. But just as Brice stepped forward the door +opened and Fraser came into the room. For an instant everything +reeled. We were gone! But even in that terrible instant of despair I +remembered to keep my eyes blank. No trace of expression must appear +or we were lost. I stretched my lips in that travesty of a smile I had +seen the others use. Fraser stared at us, one after the other. He +nodded. + +"It is well," he said slowly and distinctly as if he were talking to +small children. "Your names will still be as they were." We stared at +him blankly and again he nodded. "You have forgotten your names--ah! +Yours," he pointed to me, "was Ainslee, and it still is. And you are +Monsieur Foulet. But Brice--" he paused. My heart hung in my breast, +suspended there with terror. What was the matter with Brice? What did +Fraser suspect--or know? He turned to the doctor. "You will give +Inspector Brice another injection," he said. "The Inspector has a +strong mind, and a clever one. A normal injection would not be +enough." + +It seemed to me that my blood froze. In that terrible instant it ran, +like tingling ice, through my veins. Brice! The brainiest man in +Scotland Yard! For Fraser was right. Brice had more brains than Foulet +and I together. And in another half hour Brice would be no better than +an idiot! For I didn't fool myself. Even Brice couldn't outwit Doctor +Semple twice. + +"You will follow me," said Fraser, turning to Foulet and me. "I will +put you under the nourishment ray while Doctor Semple attends to +Brice." Obediently, with slightly shuffling, gait and vacant eyes we +followed him into an adjoining room, leaving Brice behind. I didn't +even trust myself to glance at him as we left. But my heart was in my +boots. When would we see him again? And what would he be? + + * * * * * + +The room we entered was dark, but instantly Fraser switched on a +mellow, orange-colored light, that flooded the room with a deep, warm +glow. + +"Strip yourselves and sit down," he said, pointing to deep lounging +chairs that filled the room. "You will do nothing. Relax and allow the +light to bathe you. In half an hour I will come back with +instructions." + +We obeyed, I imitating blindly every vague, mechanical movement of +Foulet's. We settled ourselves in the comfortable chairs and Fraser +left us. He had told us to relax--but to do anything else would have +been impossible. The light soothed us, eased us; gave us, somehow, a +penetrating sensation of peace and complete comfort. It flowed around +us, warming us, lulling us to a delicious dreamy state that was +neither waking nor sleeping. It wiped out danger; it wiped out Time; +nothing existed but this warm and relaxing sense of utter satisfaction +and peace. + +Through this mist of contentment came Fraser's voice, "That is all!" +The light faded gradually, and as gradually we came to ourselves. "You +will dress," directed Fraser in the same clear, clipped manner, "and +you will come to me in my laboratory." + +Fifteen minutes later we stood before him, vacant-eyed and solemn. +Fraser fastened his black, polished eyes upon us. "You will tell me," +he said distinctly, "all you know." + +We were silent. How could we tell him all we knew when we were +supposed to have forgotten everything? Was this a trap? Or did our +inside secret service information come under the general head of +Science? But before these questions had actually formed in my mind I +remembered that several times Fraser had answered my questions before +they were asked. Might he be a mind reader? Best to take no chances! I +made my conscious mind as blank as possible and gazed back at him. At +my side Foulet made a vague and uncertain noise in his throat. + +"Your countries are afraid of me?" Fraser leaned forward, that smug, +vain smile curling his lips. "Your countries know there is a power +abroad stronger than they? They feel that between the twin horns of +economic pressure and the red menace they will be tossed to +destruction? + +"Destruction?" repeated Foulet with all the vacant inflection of +idiocy. + +"Tossed?" I asked imitating Foulet. But instantly I wondered if we +were taking the right tack for Fraser's eyes grew red with fury. + + * * * * * + +"Answer me!" he raged. "Tell me that your countries know that soon I +shall be master of the world! Tell me they are afraid of me! Tell me +that in the last three years I have slowly gained control of commerce, +of gold! Tell me that they know I hold the economic systems of the +world in the hollow of my hand! Tell me that not a government on earth +but knows it is hanging on the brink of disaster! And I--I put it +there! My agents spread the propaganda of ruin! My agents crashed your +Wall Street and broke your banks! I! I! I! Mad Algy Fraser!" He +stopped, gasping for breath. His face was scarlet. His eyes glowed +like red coals. Suddenly he burst into a cascade of maniacal laughter, +high, insane, terrible. + +It took all my control to keep my eyes blank, my face devoid of +expression. Out of the tail of my eye I saw Foulet smiling, a vague, +idiotic smile of sympathy with Fraser's glee. But suddenly the glee +died--as suddenly as if a button had snapped off the current. He +leaned forward, his black eyes devouring our faces. + +"They are afraid of me?" It was a whisper, sharply eager. "The world +knows I am Master?" + +"Master," repeated Foulet. It wasn't quite a question, yet neither was +it sufficiently definite as an answer to arouse Fraser's suspicions. +To my relief it satisfied him. The congested blood drained out of his +face. His eyes lost their glare. He turned and for several minutes +tramped up and down the laboratory lost in thought. At last he came +back to us. + +"I have changed my mind," he muttered. "Come with me." + +Without a word we followed him, out through the door and down the +passageway. Out of the building he led us. The air was stirring with +the first breath of dawn and along the horizon glowed a band of pure +gold where the sun would soon rise. When he had walked some thirty +yards from the laboratory Fraser paused. With his toe he touched a +spring in the platform. A trap door instantly yawned at our feet. I +suppressed a start just in time, but through my body shot a thrill of +fear. My muscles tensed. My heart raced. What now? Where could a trap +door, two thousand feet above the earth lead? Was he going to shove us +into space because we refused to answer his questions? + +"Go down," Fraser ordered. + + * * * * * + +For the space of a breath we hesitated. To disobey meant certain and +instant death at the hands of this soulless maniac. But to obey--to +drop through this trap-door--also meant death. I took a step forward. +Could we overpower him? But what if we did? There were others here +beside Fraser. How many others I had no idea, but surely enough to +make things impossible for Foulet and me. Yet we dared not even +hesitate. To hesitate implied thinking--and a man robbed of his brain +cannot think! There was no way out. Together Foulet and I stepped to +the brink of the yawning hole.... + +For an instant we were almost blinded by a glare of rosy light that +seemed to burst upon us from the earth so far below. Here was the +source of that strange afterglow! Away beneath us, evidently on the +sands of the Arabian desert, glowed four red eyes sending forth the +rosy rays that converged at the center of the floating platform. +Instantly I comprehended Fraser's scheme. The Fleotite he had +invented, and of which the platform and buildings were made, was +lighter than air. It followed, therefore, that if it were not anchored +in some way it would instantly rise. So Fraser had anchored it with +four of his magnetic rays! He had told us that he could regulate the +pulling power of the ray, so what he had obviously done was to +calculate to a nicety the lift of the Fleotite against the magnetism +of the rays. + +But instantaneously with this thought came another. Fraser was urging +us into the glow of the magnetic ray! If once our bodies came entirely +within the ray we would be yanked from the platform and dashed to +death--sucked to destruction on the sands below. + +In my ear I heard Fraser's fiendish chuckle. "The instinct of fear +still holds, eh? My serum can destroy your conscious mind--but not +your native fear? Cowards! Fools! But I am not going to push you off. +Look!" With his foot he pressed another lever which, while it did not +shut off any of the light, seemed to deflect the ray. "Fools!" he said +again scornfully. "Go down!" + + * * * * * + +Then it was I saw where he was sending us! Thirty feet below the +platform there swung a small cabin, attached by cables and reached by +a swinging steel ladder. As I looked a door in the roof slid back. +"Climb down!" ordered Fraser again. There was nothing to do but obey. +Accustomed as I was to flying, inured as I had become to great +heights, my head reeled and my hands grew icy as I swung myself +through that trap door and felt for a footing on the swinging ladder. +Suppose Fraser turned the ray back on us as we climbed down? Suppose +he cut the ladder? But instantly my good sense told me he would do +neither. If he had meant to kill us he could have done it easier than +this. No, somewhere in his mad head, he had a reason for sending us +down to this swinging cabin. + +Five minutes later Foulet and I stared at each other in the cramped +confines of our prison. The tiny door in the roof, through which we +had dropped, was closed. The steel ladder had been pulled up. We were +alone. Alone? Were there no eyes that watched us still, or ears that +listened to what we might say? Foulet evidently shared my sense of +espionage, for, without even a glance at me, he lay down on the hard +floor of our bare little cabin and, to all intents and purposes, fell +asleep. + +For a few minutes I stood staring at him, then followed his example. +As I relaxed I realized I was tremendously weary. The cumulative +exhaustion of the past thirty-six hours seemed to crowd upon me with a +smothering sense of physical oppression. I looked at my watch and +wound it. Five o'clock. Through the narrow slits near the roof of our +swinging cell I could see the changing light of dawn, melting in with +the rosy glow from the magnetic rays. My eyelids drooped heavily.... + +When I awoke Foulet was standing near me, his arms folded across his +chest, scowling thoughtfully. He nodded as he saw my open eyes, but +when I started to speak he shook his head sharply. With his gesture +there flooded back to me the feeling that we were watched--even +through the walls of our aerial prison and the floor of the platform +above us. + + * * * * * + +I sat up and, clasping my knees with my hands, leaned against the +wall. There must be a way out of this for us! All my life I had worked +on the theory that if you thought hard enough there was a way out of +any difficulty. But this seemed so hopeless! No matter how hard we +thought the mad mind of Fraser would always be one jump ahead of us! +And maybe we didn't dare even think! If Fraser were able to read +minds--as I was nearly sure he was--then hadn't we better keep our +minds blank even down here? But an instant's thought showed me the +flaw in my logic. Fraser could, without much doubt, read minds--when +those minds were close to him. If he could read minds at a distance +then he wouldn't need to ask us for information. + +But why had he put us here? I burrowed around for the answer. Had he +guessed we had outwitted Doctor Semple and not taken the mad serum +after all, and was this punishment? No, if Fraser had guessed that he +would simply have given us more serum, as he had Brice. Brice! Where +was poor Brice now? Was he an idiot, with blank face and shiny, +soulless eyes? My mind shuddered away from the thought, taking refuge +in my first question: Why were we here? What was Fraser going to do +with us? + +We lost all track of time. In spite of my winding it my watch stopped +and the hours slipped by uncounted. Night came, and another dawn and +another night. Twice our roof was lifted and our tiny swinging cell +filled with the orange light of the nourishment ray. But we saw no one +nor did anyone speak to us. The third day passed in the same isolated +silence. Occasionally Foulet or I would utter a monosyllable; the +sound of our voices was comforting and the single words would convey +little to a listener. + +But as the hours of the third night slowly passed the atmosphere in +our tiny swinging cell grew tense. Something was going to happen. I +could feel it and I knew by Foulet's eyes that he felt it too. The air +was tight, electrical. Standing on tiptoe, I glued my eyes to the +narrow slit which was our only ventilation. But I could see nothing. +The brilliant rosy glow blinded me. I couldn't even see the huge +platform floating above our heads. + +Then, suddenly, our roof slid back. The magnetic ray was deflected. +Above us, in the opening of the trap-door, leered the bright, mad eyes +of Fraser. + +"Good evening," he said mockingly. "How do you feel?" We smiled +hesitantly. Something in his voice made me feel he was addressing us +as sane men and not idiots. But why? Weren't we supposed to be idiots +when he put us down there? + +"You ought to feel all right," Fraser went on critically. "The first +dose of that serum lasts only three days. It's cumulative," he added +with his professional air. "In the beginning an injection every three +days. Then once a week and so on. There's a man who has been with me +for three years who needs treatment only once every three months. +Well, are you ready to talk?" + + * * * * * + +So that was it! He had put us down here till the supposed effects of +that serum had worn off; and now we were to talk; tell him everything +his agents had been risking their lives to find out! We were to sell +out our countries to him; betray all the secrets we had sworn by +eternity to keep! If we did as he demanded both France and the United +States would be at his mercy--and he had no mercy! He was not a man; +he was a cruel, power-loving, scientific machine. I clamped my teeth. +Never would I talk! I had sworn to protect my country's secrets with +my life--and my vow would be kept! + +"You will talk?" Fraser asked again, his voice suddenly suave and +beseeching. "For those who talk there are--rewards." + +"Let down the ladder," said Foulet, in a quiet, conversational tone. +"It will be easier to discuss this--" + +Fraser's eyes narrowed to gleaming slits. He smiled craftily. "The +ladder will be let down--when you talk." + +"And if," suggested Foulet, "we don't wish to talk?" + +Fraser's lips stretched in a wider grin. His white teeth gleamed. His +shiny black eyes glittered. In that warm, rosy light he looked like a +demon from hell. He held out his hand. In it shone a long, slender +instrument. + +"This knife," he said softly, "Will cut the steel cables that connect +you to this platform--as if they were cheese! You will talk?" Beside +me I heard Foulet gasp. Swiftly my imagination conjured up the picture +of our fate. Our determined refusal to divulge the secrets of our +respective countries; the severing, one by one, of the four cables +holding us to the platform; the listing of our swinging cell; the +tipping, the last, terrible plunge two thousand feet. But it would be +swift. The power of the magnetic ray would give us no time to +think--to suffer. It would be a merciful end.... + +"Let us up," bargained Foulet. "We will talk." Fraser laughed. + +"None of that," he said slyly. "You talk from there and if your +information doesn't dove-tail with what I already know--" he +flourished the steel knife suggestively. + + * * * * * + +We were caught! No amount of bluff would save us now. Fraser demanded +that truth, facts, actual information--and he wouldn't be fooled by +anything spurious. Foulet's shoulder touched mine as we peered up +through the roof of our cell at our mad captor. We spoke together: + +"There is nothing to say." + +The assured smile left Fraser's lips. His eyes glittered red. His +whole mad face was contorted with fury. A volley of oaths poured +through his twisted mouth. With a gesture of insane rage he pulled the +nearest cable to him and slashed it with the knife! + +Our cell tilted. Foulet and I were thrown in a heap on the floor. We +sprang up to face Fraser again through the roof. His mad eyes glared +down at us, soul-chilling, maniacal. + +"Talk!" he snarled. "Talk--or I'll slice another!" He drew the second +cable to him, holding it in readiness. + +I clenched my teeth. Beside me I could see the muscles of Foulet's jaw +working. Talk? Never! + +"Talk!" screamed Fraser. "Talk!" Our silence and our white faces were +his only answer. There was a gleam of the knife in the rosy light. Our +cell lurched, quivered, then caught. Would it hold with only two +cables? It was hanging on its side. We were standing on what had been +the wall. Through the opening in the roof we could see nothing but +rosy light and distant stars. How strong were the cables? Could they +hold against the pull of the magnetic ray? We could feel the pull now; +feel the strain on the cables above us. If Fraser cut the third one-- + +"Talk!" his voice came, hoarse with fury. "Talk now! You can't see +me," he went on; "but I'm pulling the third cable toward me. I'm +raising the knife. Will you talk?" + +Standing on that quaking wall Foulet and I stared at each other. How +long would it be? One second? Half a minute? Thank God it would be +quick! This was the worst now. This eternity of waiting.... "I'm +cutting it!" yelled Fraser--and with his words the cell lurched, +swung, whirled like a spinning top. Foulet and I were tossed around +like dried peas in a pod. + +Suddenly the thing steadied. Two steel hooks were clamped on the edge +of the opening in what had been the roof, and Brice stared at us +through the aperture! + +"Quick!" he gasped. "There's not a second to lose. Don't stare! Quick, +I say. I've got the ladder here. It's steel and it'll hold. Climb up." + + * * * * * + +Dumbly we obeyed. Our heads were whirling, our bodies bruised and +mashed by the shaking up. Blindly, dizzily we climbed up the ladder, +scrambled out on the platform. Solid footing again! As Brice loosed +the ladder and pulled it up, there was a snap. The last cable had +gone! The cell shot down to earth with a speed that must have reduced +it 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 shot +the stuff into me, but I found an antidote in Semple's office and used +it right away. Now listen to me! Our plane is over there," he pointed +across the platform. "It's all ready to take off. They think they're +sending me off on an errand for them at dawn. It's ready for a long +trip. Go there; get in; and if any one questions you tell them it's +orders. 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 he +does--" + +"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 the +plane 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 to +explain--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 dim +shadow of which we could see across the platform. + +We took a step toward it, and then turned back. How could we go +without Brice? But he had vanished. And in the shadow of the trap door +Fraser groaned. + +We waited no longer. To hesitate was to court death. Deliberately, as +if we were acting under orders, we walked toward the plane. As Brice +had said, it was in readiness. Evidently he was to have started at +once. We climbed in, our hearts in our throats. A mechanic stepped +forward. The propeller roared. But, above the roar of the propeller we +heard a yell of fury--and Fraser, dazed and reeling, came stumbling +across 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 that +I realized the complete idiocy of our forlorn hope of escape. What +fools we were! And Brice--Brice must, in truth, be mad! How could we +get away? How could we ever escape the terrific power of the magnetic +ray? That ray that Fraser worked himself from his laboratory--the ray +that had drawn us first across the desert to this floating island of +madness! It would be a matter of seconds before Fraser would reach it +and turn it on us. There was no escape--none! + +In despair I looked back at the platform. To eyes ignorant of its +horror it would have been an amazing and gorgeous sight. The crimson +lamps of the magnetic ray bloomed like huge desert flowers on the sand +two thousand feet below us; the rays flamed up with the glory of an +Italian sunset and, poised in space like a dark butterfly, floated the +huge platform bathed in its rosy light. It was beautiful. It was +unbelievable. It was horrible. I gazed, fascinated. When would Fraser +reach the lamp? When would he turn it on? I stared at the dark shadow +that I knew was the laboratory building. My eyes strained through the +growing distance. When would the glow come? That glow that meant our +death! + +Suddenly I gasped. The light had gone! The great lamps down on the +desert floor were out! Darkness, swift, comforting, wrapped us in +velvet folds. + +"Brice!" I yelled. "Brice has cut off the lamps--he's released the +platform. God! Look--Foulet!" My voice tore through my throat; my eyes +burned with sudden, blinding emotion. In the soft darkness of the +starry night I could see the platform waver, topple, rise! It rose +straight up, tilting and swaying in the light breeze. What was it +Fraser 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? I +strained my eyes through the darkness. Already Foulet had banked the +plane--we were circling; turning back. A tiny white speck took shape +beneath the rising island. A parachute! Brice was safe! + + * * * * * + +Ten minutes later we slid along the hard desert sand and came to a +stop. Brice came running over toward us. Foulet and I climbed out of +the plane to meet him. Silently we gripped hands. It was a solemn +moment. Beside us reared the great plane that would take us back to +safety--back to the familiar life we knew and loved. Around us +stretched the trackless wastes of the Great Arabian Desert--and above, +somewhere between us and the stars, soared the floating island of +madness. + +"They believed I was mad," said Brice as we climbed back into the +plane. "I watched Fraser. I spied on the men. There were about thirty +up there, and finally I saw where they regulated those lamps. The rest +was easy--all except the minute when I found Fraser kneeling beside +that trap-door slicing the cables. For a second I thought it was all +up." + +"You got us just in time," I muttered. But you can't be grateful with +an Englishman. They won't stand for it. + +"Oh, bosh," Brice murmured, as the plane swung its nose toward that +far distance that was home. "Well, it's all over--but it's a story +that can never be told. The fate of Mad Fraser will have to remain a +mystery--for no one would believe us if we told them!" + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Floating Island of Madness, by Jason Kirby + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOATING ISLAND OF MADNESS *** + +***** This file should be named 29421-8.txt or 29421-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/2/29421/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 + + +Title: The Floating Island of Madness + +Author: Jason Kirby + +Release Date: July 16, 2009 [EBook #29421] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOATING ISLAND OF MADNESS *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Astounding Stories January 1933. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> +<h1>The Floating Island of Madness</h1> +<p> </p> + +<h2>By Jason Kirby</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="sidenote">Far above the Arabian Desert three Secret Service men find +an aerial island whose inhabitants are—madmen.</div> + + +<p><span class="f1">A</span>bove us curved the pale, hot bowl of cloudless sky; below us +stretched the rolling, tawny wastes of the great Arabian Desert; and +away to the east, close to the dipping horizon, scudded the tiny speck +we were following. We had been following it since dawn and it was now +close to sunset. Where was it leading us? Should we go on or turn +back? How much longer would our gas and oil hold out? And just where +were we? I turned and saw my questions reflected in the eyes of my +companions, Paul Foulet of the French Sureté and Douglas Brice of +Scotland Yard.</p> + +<p>"Too fast!" shouted Brice above the roar of our motors. I nodded. His +gesture explained his meaning. The plane ahead had suddenly taken on a +terrific, unbelievable speed. All day it had traveled normally, +maintaining, but not increasing, the distance between us. But in the +last fifteen minutes it had leaped into space. Fifteen minutes before +it had been two miles in the lead; now it was barely visible. A tiny, +vanishing speck. What could account for this burst of superhuman +speed? Who was in that plane? <i>What</i> was in that plane?</p> + +<p>I glanced at Foulet. He shrugged non-committally, waving a courteous +hand toward Brice. I understood; I agreed with him. This was Brice's +party, and the decision was up to him. Foulet and I just happened to +be along; it was partly design and partly coincidence.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">T</span>wo days before I had been in Constantinople. I was disheartened and +utterly disgusted. All the way from the home office of the United +States Secret Service in Washington I had trailed my man, only to lose +him. On steamships, by railway, airplane and motor we had +traveled—always with my quarry just one tantalizing jump ahead of +me—and in Constantinople I had lost him. And it was a ruse a child +should have seen through. I could have beaten my head against a wall.</p> + +<p>And then, suddenly, I had run into Foulet. Not ten days before I had +talked to him in his office in Paris. I had told him a little of my +errand, for I was working on the hunch that this man I was after +concerned not only the United States, but France and the Continent as +well. And what Foulet told me served only to strengthen my conviction. +So, meeting him in Constantinople was a thin ray of light in my +disgusted darkness. At least I could explode to a kindred spirit.</p> + +<p>"Lost your man!" was his greeting. And it wasn't a question; it was a +statement.</p> + +<p>"How did you know?" I growled. My humiliation was too fresh to stand +kidding.</p> + +<p>"Constantinople," said Foulet amiably. "You always lose them in +Constantinople. I've lost three here."</p> + +<p>"Three?" I said, "Like mine!"</p> + +<p>"Exactly," he nodded. Then he lowered his voice. "Come to my hotel. We +can talk there."</p> + +<p>"Now," he continued fifteen minutes later as we settled ourselves in +his room, "you were very circumspect in Paris. You told me +little—just a hint here and there. But it was enough. You—the United +States—have joined our ranks—"</p> + +<p>"You mean—"</p> + +<p>"I mean that for a year we, the various secret service organizations +of the Continent—and that includes, of course, Scotland Yard—have +been after—Well, to be frank, we don't know what we're after. But we +do know this. There is a power—there is someone, somewhere, who is +trying to conquer the world."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/image_001.jpg" width="500" height="542" alt="A white speck took shape beneath the rising Island." /> +<span class="caption">A white speck took shape beneath the rising Island.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Are you serious?" I glanced at him but the tight lines of his set +mouth convinced me. "I beg your pardon," I murmured. "Go ahead."</p> + +<p>"I don't blame you for thinking it was a jest," he said imperturbably, +"But, to prove I know what I'm talking about, let me tell you what +this man has done whom you have been pursuing. He has done one of two +things. Either he has proved himself a dangerous revolutionary or he +has engineered the failure of a bank or chain of banks—"</p> + +<p>"We can't prove it," I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"No," said Foulet, "Neither can we. Neither can Scotland Yard—or the +secret services of Belgium or Germany or Italy or Spain. But there you +are—"</p> + +<p>"You mean that in all these countries—?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that for a year—probably longer—these countries have been +and are being steadily, and systematically, undermined. The morale of +the people is being weakened; their faith in their government is being +betrayed—and someone is behind it. Someone who can think faster and +plan more carefully than we—someone whose agents we always lose in +Constantinople! I'll wager you lost your man from a roof-top."</p> + +<p>I nodded, my disgust at my own stupidity returning in full force. +"There was a lower roof and a maze of crisscross alleys," I muttered. +"He got away."</p> + +<p>"Was there an airplane anywhere around?" asked Foulet.</p> + +<p>I glanced at him in surprise. What good would an airplane have been on +a roof-top ten feet wide by twelve feet long? Then I remembered. +"There was an airplane," I said, "but it was a long way off, and I +could scarcely see it; but the air was very still and I heard the +motor."</p> + +<p>Foulet nodded, "And if you had had a pair of glasses," he said gently, +"You would have seen that the airplane had a glider attached to it. +There is always an airplane—and a glider—when we lose our men from +the roofs of Constantinople."</p> + +<p>"But that must be coincidence!" I insisted. "Why, I was on that roof +right on the fellow's heels—and the airplane was at least five miles +away!"</p> + +<p>Foulet shrugged, "Coincidence—possibly," he said, "but it is our only +clue."</p> + +<p>"Of course," I murmured thoughtfully, "you have never been able to +follow—"</p> + +<p>Foulet smiled, "Can you imagine where that airplane would be by the +time we climbed down off our roofs and got to a flying field and +started in pursuit?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">W</span>e descended for dinner. Foulet's story had restored my +self-confidence somewhat—but I was still sore. Of course Foulet +connecting my vanishing man with that disappearing airplane was +absurd—but where had the man gone? Was my supposition that he had +jumped to a lower roof, climbed a wall and run through the maze of +alleyways in half a minute in any way less absurd?</p> + +<p>We were halfway through dinner when Brice appeared. Brice was one of +the best men in Scotland Yard and I had known him many years. So, +evidently, had Foulet, for his eyes flickered faintly with pleased +surprise at the sight of him. Brice came directly to our table. He was +bursting with victorious joy. I could feel it somehow, although his +face, carefully schooled to betray no emotion, was placid and casual.</p> + +<p>All through the remainder of the meal I could feel the vibrations of +his excitement. But it was only at the very end that he confided +anything—and his confidence only served to make the excitement and +sense of impending thrill greater.</p> + +<p>Just as he was rising to leave he shoved a tiny strip of paper across +the table to me with a sidelong glance at Foulet. "Another roof-top," +I read scrawled in pencil. "If you like, meet me at the flying field +before dawn." If I liked! I shoved the paper across to Foulet who read +it and carelessly twisted it into a spill to light his cigar. But his +hand shook ever so slightly.</p> + +<p>Needless to say we went to the flying field shortly after midnight. +Bruce was there, pacing up and down restlessly. Near him was a huge +tri-motored biplane, its motor humming in readiness.</p> + +<p>"I've put a man on the trail in my place," Brice told us briefly. +"Somebody else is going to lose the scent on a roof-top—and I'm going +to watch."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">W</span>e settled to our wait. To me it seemed absurdly hopeless. The flying +field was on a slight rise. Below us spread the dark shadow that was +Constantinople. There was no moon to give it form and substance—it +was just a lake of deeper darkness, a spreading mass of silent +roof-tops and minarets. How did Brice expect to see his quarry escape? +Suppose he fled during the night? And even with daylight—</p> + +<p>The first streaks of dawn found us still waiting, our ears strained +for the hum of an airplane motor. But hardly had the golden rim of the +sun appeared over the horizon when it came. It came from the +east—straight out of the golden glory of the sun. Nearer and nearer +it came; an airplane—alone.</p> + +<p>"It hasn't got the glider," muttered Foulet and his tone was tinged +with disappointment. But hardly had he spoken when, from one of the +myriad roof-tops below us, rose a swift streak of shadow. So fast it +flew, with such unbelievable speed, that to our eyes it was little +more than a blur; but—</p> + +<p>"The glider!" Brice gasped. "My God! How did he do it?" We stared, +silent with amazement. The airplane, that only a second before had +flown alone, now was towing a glider—a glider that had arisen, as if +by magic, from the housetops!</p> + +<p>Another instant and we had piled into the cockpit of the tri-motored +plane and were off on our pursuit. That pursuit that led us on and on +till, as the sun sank behind us, we found ourselves above the +illimitable, tawny wastes of the great Arabian Desert.</p> + +<p>And now—what? All day long, as I have said, the plane we were +pursuing had maintained, but never increased, the distance between us. +Each hour had brought us renewed hope that the next hour would bring +capture—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 down +for fear of destroying our one meager chance of following it to its +destination.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">A</span>nd now it had vanished. Suddenly, unaccountably it had taken on that +terrific burst of speed which I have described. In ten minutes it had +become a speck on the far horizon—in another instant it was gone. We +were alone. Night was falling. If we turned back our gas might bring +us to safety. If we went on—what?</p> + +<p>I turned to my companions. Foulet still maintained his non-committal +attitude, but Brice was deeply disappointed and worried. His ruddy +English face was knotted in a scowl and his blue eyes were dark. +Quickly he jerked his head back. We understood. Of course, turning +back was the only thing to do; to go on was absurd. Our quarry had +totally disappeared. But it was heart-breaking. Once again we had +been fooled and outwitted. Our disappointment filled that tiny cockpit +like a tangible mist. Brice threw over the stick with a gesture of +disgust. In response our right wing lifted a bit, seemed to shake +itself, then settled—and the plane continued on its course. Brice's +eyes flickered with surprise. He shoved the stick back, threw it over +again, but toward the opposite side. Obediently our left wing lifted +as if to bank, a shudder passed through it, it dropped, the plane +leveled, and went on.</p> + +<p>Foulet leaned forward, his eyes were gleaming, his face flushed and +eager. "Climb!" he yelled above the roar of the motors. "Up!" Brice +nodded—but it was no use. That plane was like a live thing; nothing +we 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. It +was the machine that refused to obey.</p> + +<p>Again Foulet leaned forward. "Drop!" he shouted. Brice nodded, but the +plane refused to respond. On and on, straight as a die, it sped.</p> + +<p>"Try slowing the motor," I yelled into Brice's ear and both Foulet and +I leaned forward to watch results.</p> + +<p>The motors slowed. Gradually the roaring, pounding hum lessened, and +our speed continued! The whine of the wind in the wires abated not one +whit! The speedometer on our instrument board climbed!</p> + +<p>Brice turned. His face, in the deepening dusk, was a blur of pasty +white. His hands hung at his sides. The motors purred, pulsed, were +silent. The plane, unaided, unguided, flew alone!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">W</span>e sat hushed and unbelieving in that terrible, deathlike silence. Our +ears, attuned all day to the deafening roar of the motors, felt as if +they would burst in the sudden, agonizing stillness. There was not a +sound 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 lay +the empty stretch of blank desert.</p> + +<p>We didn't speak. I know that I, for one, could not bring my voice to +break that ominous stillness. Silently we sat there, watching, +waiting.... The quick darkness of the desert fell like a velvet +curtain. The stars burst forth as if lit by an invisible hand. Foulet +stirred, leaned forward, gasped. My eyes followed his gaze. Before our +plane spread a path of light, dull, ruddily glowing, like the ghost of +live embers. It cut the darkness of the night like a flaming +finger—and along it we sped as if on an invisible track!</p> + +<p>"The speed of that other plane," muttered Brice, breaking that utter +silence, "This was it!"</p> + +<p>Foulet and I nodded. Well could I imagine that we were travelling at +that same terrific, impossible speed. And we were helpless—helpless +in the clutch of—what? What power lay behind this band of light that +drew us irresistibly toward it?</p> + +<p>The ruddy pathway brightened. The light grew stronger. Our speed +increased. The whine of the wires was tuned almost past human hearing. +The plane trembled like a live thing in the grip of inhuman forces. A +great glowing eye suddenly burst from the rim of the horizon—the +source of the light! Instinctively I closed my eyes. What power might +that eye possess? The same thought must have struck Brice and Foulet +for they ducked to the floor of the cockpit, pulling me with them.</p> + +<p>"Take care!" Brice muttered, "It might blind us."</p> + +<p>We sat huddled in that cockpit for what seemed an eternity, though it +couldn't have been more than two minutes. The glare increased. It +threw into sharp, uncanny relief every tiny detail of the cockpit and +of our faces. The light was as powerful as a searchlight, but not so +blinding. It had a rosy, diffused quality that the searchlight lacks.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">I</span>n that eternity of tense waiting I tried to collect my thoughts. I +told myself that I must keep steady, that I must keep my mind clear. I +struggled to get a grip on myself; the light, the steady flying +without power, the boundless, horrible silence had shaken me. But +there was more to come. I knew it. We all knew it. And it was not +physical strength that would pull us through—it was wits. We must +hold steady. Thank God we all had years of training—war experience, +peace experience, countless life-and-death adventures—behind us. It +would all count now. It would all help us to keep out brains clear and +cool. Wits, I thought again, only our wits would stand between us +and—what?</p> + +<p>The ground wheels of the plane struck something solid; rolled; +stopped! The light snapped off. The sudden blackness, falling like a +blanket of thick fur, choked me. In that first dazed, gasping instant +I 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 had +been, close to two thousand feet above the earth!</p> + +<p>Then came the sound of running feet and a confused blur of voices. The +door of the cockpit was thrown open. A man leaned in, his hand on the +jamb.</p> + +<p>"Inspector Brice," he said quietly. "Monsieur Foulet. Lieutenant +Ainslee. We are glad to welcome you." His words were courteous, but +something in his tone sent a tingling chill down my spine. It was +cold, as soulless as the clink of metal. It was dull, without life or +inflection. But there was something else—something I could not name.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">I</span> was nearest the door and scrambled out first. To my surprise it was +not dark. We were enveloped by a radiance, rosy as the broad ray had +been, but fainter, like the afterglow of a sunset. By this light I +could make out, vaguely, our surroundings. We seemed to be on a +plateau; a great flat space probably an acre in extent, surrounded by +a six-foot wall. Behind us there was a wide gateway through which our +airplane had just come and across which workmen were dropping bars +made of some material like cement. Before us, dotting this acre or so +of plateau, were small, domed structures made of the same cement-like +material. In the center of the plateau rose a larger domed building +with a segment of its roof open to the stars and through this opening +I could see the shadowy suggestion of a great lamp. There was the +source of that powerful magnetic ray!</p> + +<p>Foulet and Brice scrambled out and stood beside me. They said never a +word, but I knew that every sense was alert.</p> + +<p>"If you will follow me," that same cold, expressionless voice +murmured. I turned to look at the man. He was not bad looking, clean +shaven, well tailored. He swung his eyes to meet my gaze and as he did +so that same chill fled along my spine. His eyes—what was the matter +with them? They were dark—brown or black—and as shiny as shoe +buttons. But there was no gleam of expression in them. Their shine was +the glitter of polished glass.</p> + +<p>Without a word we followed him across the small cleared space where +our airplane stood, past a row of the small, domed structures to a low +door cut in the white wall of the great central building. At the +doorway he turned.</p> + +<p>"I am taking you to the Master," he said; then, over his shoulder he +added. "There is no means of escape—we are two thousand feet above +the earth!" And he laughed—a quick, short cackle of crazy laughter. I +felt the breath catch in my throat and the short hairs prickle at my +neck. Foulet gripped my arm. Through my coat I could feel the chill of +his fingers, but his grasp steadied me.</p> + +<p>We walked on, following our guide. Down a narrow passageway, through a +low arched door into a small room, evidently an ante-chamber to a +larger room beyond. Without a word our guide left us, passing through +another door which he closed after him.</p> + +<p>Brice and Foulet and I exchanged looks, but we were silent. It might +be we were watched. It might be that the very walls had ears. We could +trust nothing.</p> + +<p>Our guide returned. "The Master," he said and flung open a wide door.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">W</span>e found ourselves in a large room filled with paraphernalia of all +sorts: wires, lights, laboratory tables cluttered with test tubes and +apparatus—and in the midst of this ordered chaos stood a man, his +gleaming eyes watching us fixedly.</p> + +<p>At first I was conscious of nothing but his eyes. Large, coal black +and shiny with that peculiar, expressionless gloss I had noted in the +eyes of our guide. Later I realized that he was of slight build, +meticulously neat, with a tiny black waxed mustache and a carefully +trimmed Van Dyke beard.</p> + +<p>"Welcome to my floating island," he said gravely, never swerving those +shiny eyes for an instant. "We have hoped long for your coming." He +paused, noiselessly rubbing his hands, and watching us. We stared +back, fascinated by that glossy, fixed gaze. "There is much to tell +you," he went on, "and to ask you." He permitted himself a slow smile +that spread his lips but failed to reach his eyes. "During your stay +here," he continued, "which I hope will be both long and profitable, +you will become my slaves and will know me as Master. But before you +come under my domination you may know my name."</p> + +<p>For the first time he moved his eyes. His glance swept the room as if +to assure himself we were alone. He stepped, as swiftly and softly as +a cat, over to the door through which we had entered, opened it, spoke +to our guide who was waiting in the ante-room, closed it and returned. +He faced us, his lips smiling and his eyes as blank as polished agate.</p> + +<p>"My name," he said softly, "is Algernon—Frederick—Fraser!" He paused +and watched us. Behind me I felt Foulet start; I heard Brice's quickly +suppressed gasp. My own throat closed on words that might have been +fatal. Algernon Frederick Fraser! Was it possible? Could it be?</p> + +<p>Five years before Fraser had suddenly burst on the world of science. +He had made some amazing discoveries regarding the power of light; +discoveries that would reorganize the living conditions of the world. +For a week or two the papers were filled with the man's amazing +genius; then no more was heard of him. Had he died? What was the +story?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">T</span>wo years passed and even the name of Fraser was forgotten. Then +suddenly it burst forth again in the headlines of the world. Fraser +had disappeared! Fraser had vanished! But not as a brilliant genius of +science; he had gone as an escaped lunatic! After his amazing burst of +fame his mind snapped. Somehow the story had been kept out of the +press.</p> + +<p>Fraser was incarcerated in a quiet, very private asylum, and that was +all. All—until he escaped. When that happened the story couldn't be +hushed any longer. The press was informed, the people were warned. He +became known as the Mad Menace. The police and secret service +organizations of the world searched for him. His name became a byword. +Where had he gone? What would he do? What was his scheme? For he was +still the astounding scientific genius. That portion of his mind was +untouched. At the time of his escape the physicians in charge of the +case assured the press that Fraser's scientific mind was every bit as +sound as ever.</p> + +<p>And that was all. Aside from his god Science he was a maniac—inhuman, +cruel, unreasoning. What would such a man do loosed in the world? What +might he not do? Was it possible that it was this man who stood before +us now with his eyes fastened upon us so intently and his lips spread +in that little, empty smile? Suddenly I knew! Those eyes! Those eyes +were the shiny, vacuous, soulless eyes of a madman!</p> + +<p>"I see," he said softly, "that you have heard of me. But it is three +years since your world has seen me—yes?" He laughed—a low laugh that +seemed to freeze the air around him. "They call me mad." His smile +faded, his eyes bored through us like steel needles. "I am not mad! No +madman could do what I have done in three years!" For the first time +an expression flickered in his eyes—a crafty gleam of vanity that +flared instantaneously. "Would you like to see?" He leaned toward us. +We bowed, but it was Brice who spoke.</p> + +<p>"Very much, Doctor Fraser—"</p> + +<p>"Don't call me that!" The man whirled like a tiger ready to spring. +"Don't call me that! I am Master here! Call me Master! Say it." His +voice rose to a shriek. "Say it—Master!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">I</span> clamped my teeth against the bloodless horror of that maniacal +voice. It chilled my veins. Again I felt the hair rise on my scalp. +Brice bowed quietly; and his eyes, serene and blue, met Fraser's +fairly.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Master." His low English voice soothed the bristling +silence. "I am sure I speak for Monsieur Foulet and Lieutenant Ainslee +when I say that we would be most deeply interested in your +achievements."</p> + +<p>Fraser was placated. He relaxed. He softly rubbed his hands while a +smug, crafty smile flitted across his lips. "You will follow me," he +murmured.</p> + +<p>He led the way back through the ante-room and down the passageway till +we stood again under the stars, and again I was struck by the strange +light, warm and faint and rosy like a sunset afterglow. As if he read +my thought Fraser turned to me.</p> + +<p>"I will show you first the source of this rosy light; that, I believe, +will explain a great deal." He led the way down one of the narrow +pathways between the low, domed houses—if they could be called +houses, for they were little larger than kennels. At the six-foot wall +that surrounded this plateau he paused. "Would you like to look over +the wall?" he asked.</p> + +<p>For the space of a breath we hesitated. Was this a trap? Through my +mind flashed the words of the man who had guided us to Fraser. "You +are two thousand feet above the earth," he had said. Was that true? +And if it were, might not Fraser push us over the wall? But instantly +logic came to my rescue. Fraser had brought us here, and he could have +brought us for but one thing: to question us. Would he be apt to do us +harm before those questions were asked? And besides, would Fraser's +brilliantly subtle mind stoop so low as to destroy enemies by pushing +them over a wall?</p> + +<p>"Thank you," we murmured simultaneously. "This whole achievement is of +tremendous interest to us," Foulet added.</p> + +<p>Fraser chuckled. "It will be of greater interest—later," he said, and +his blank, glittering eyes rested on first one of us, then another +with a cold, satisfied gleam. Then he lifted his hand and opened a +square door in the wall about the size of a port-hole. To my surprise +the little door swung back as lightly as a feather and made scarcely a +sound as it slammed against the wall itself. Again Fraser answered my +unspoken thought.</p> + +<p>"It has only substance," he said with his vain smirk. "No weight +whatever. This entire platform together with its huts is lighter than +air. If I should tear loose this little door it would float out of my +hands instantly and go straight up to the stars. The substance—I have +called it Fleotite—is not only lighter than air but lighter than +ether."</p> + +<p>"But we are not floating," said Brice; "we are stationary. Is the +lightness of your Fleotite counteracted by the weight of the men and +machines?"</p> + +<p>Fraser shook his head. "Not entirely," he said. "But first look +through this little window. Then I will explain."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">E</span>agerly we pressed forward. Our danger was almost forgotten in our +interest. This was amazing—stupendous! Together, shoulder to +shoulder, we gazed through the aperture. We were suspended in space! +Above us shone the blue-black Arabian night, and beneath us—far, far +beneath—lay the sands of the desert looking rosy and warm in that +same dull red glare of light that, to a fainter degree, gave us the +effect of afterglow. But we were not floating; we were anchored as +securely as a ship riding in a calm harbor.</p> + +<p>We turned back to Fraser, amazed, awed, bursting with questions. +Madman he might be, but he had wrought a miracle.</p> + +<p>"I will explain," he said and his eyes gleamed with pride. "Of course +you know of my tremendous discoveries connected with the power of +light. At any rate, five years ago, the scientific world on earth +thought they were tremendous. In reality that was nothing to my +amazing strides in the past three years. There is nothing that cannot +be done with light! Nothing!" For the first time Fraser's eyes became +alive. They were illumined. His whole body seemed to radiate light and +fire and genius. We listened, fascinated.</p> + +<p>"Take, for instance," he continued eagerly, "that ray with which I +drew you and your plane to me. That ray is the pure power of +magnetism. At full strength it will draw anything to it instantly. +Fortunately the power can be regulated: I can switch a lever in my +laboratory and draw things to me, via the ray, at any speed I +wish—one hundred, two hundred, a thousand miles an hour."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">"H</span>ow far can you throw the ray?" asked Foulet, and I knew he was +thinking of that glider that rose from the roof-tops of +Constantinople. Fraser also knew he was thinking of that.</p> + +<p>"I did not draw the glider," he said quietly. "The airplane I sent did +that. My airplanes carry batteries of this ray. In the beginning I +found gliders to be more practical for my purposes than airplanes. For +one thing they were silent. My only problem was that of getting them +off the ground. Once they were in the air I could manage everything. +It was this problem that inspired this discovery and perfection of the +ray. But, you asked how far I can throw the ray? This main lamp, that +I operate myself from here, is effective at two hundred miles. At one +hundred miles it enjoys its full power."</p> + +<p>"And you can draw anything to you," asked Brice, "within the radius of +the magnetic ray?"</p> + +<p>"Anything in the air," answered Fraser. "But of course I must use +caution. Great caution. If I drew planes to me indiscriminately I +would draw attention to myself; my secret and my location here would +leak out. No. That must not be. So the only planes I bring are my +own—and yours." He paused and his black eyes, again glassy, swept +over us. "It is a compliment I pay you," he said finally. "You have +become too troublesome. You know too much. Sooner or later the time +would come when you would combine your forces. That would be a +nuisance. So I decided to bring you here."</p> + +<p>"Suppose," asked Foulet curiously, "we hadn't fallen into your trap? +Suppose we had turned back before reaching the point where your ray is +effective?"</p> + +<p>Fraser shook his head and that smug, offensive smile appeared again. +"You were trapped from the beginning, though you didn't know it," he +said. "The plane you were following was equipped with batteries of the +ray which, while not as powerful as the lamp I have here, were still +powerful enough to hold you to the course we choose you to run. But +enough of the ray," he added impatiently. "There are one or two other +things I want to explain and then—" he paused and the pause, somehow, +was alive with menace. What was he going to do after he had finished +treating us as honored guests? For the third time he answered my +unspoken question. His eyes narrowed till they were black, glittering +slits. His voice, as he leaned toward us, was no more than a hissing +whisper.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">"S</span>laves!" he said, and his lips twisted. "How will you like to be +slaves of Mad Algy Fraser?" He laughed—a chuckle that started in his +throat and rose and rose till it seemed to shatter my ear-drums. I +felt my teeth grinding together and my nails bit my palms in my effort +to control my nerves against the strain of that maniacal glee. +Suddenly he sobered. His laugh died instantly like a radio that had +been snapped off. "Listen and I will tell you. I will tell you +everything because it is necessary for you to know so that you may +work for me intelligently and you will remember better and be of +greater use to me if I tell you now while you are yet—sane!"</p> + +<p>"Sane!" The exclamation sprang from the three of us simultaneously. I +felt a cold chill start between my shoulder blades. For an instant my +breath choked in my throat. My heart paused—and then raced. What did +he mean? What was he going to do to us? What scheme had he evolved in +his crazed brain?</p> + +<p>"I have perfected a serum"—his tone was professional, cold; he might +have been talking to a class in a lecture room—"a serum that robs the +patient of every vestige of human emotion—and therefore sanity. All +his intellect, his memories, however, remain, to serve him in carrying +out my orders. He loses all his will to live and resist, and becomes +nothing but an automaton, whose complete mental equipment is at my +command."</p> + +<p>There was silence. His glassy black eyes, blank and soulless, swept +over us. His mouth curled in that smug, complacent smile. He had us +with our shoulders to the floor. He knew it—and he knew we knew it. +There was no possible way we could escape. We were two thousand feet +above the earth. Our plane wouldn't get a quarter of a mile before the +magnetic ray would bring it back. Parachute? Even supposing we could +get parachutes where would we go? Drop two thousand feet into the +middle of the Arabian Desert?</p> + +<p>My brain raced. Never before had I been in such a tight place. And +soon—if Fraser had his way—I wouldn't even have a mind to think +with! I felt choked, stifled. Was there no way out? It seemed to me +that a blanket—a soft, terrible blanket of uncontrollable +circumstance—was being folded around me, robbing me of the use of my +limbs, paralyzing me, numbing me. And out of this terrible +helplessness came again Fraser's voice.</p> + +<p>"I have told you enough," he said suavely, "so that you may have a +faint idea of my power. I will send you now to Doctor Semple who will +administer the serum and place you under the 'nourishment ray.' This +is another of my discoveries," he added casually. "It is a ray which +allows the patient to absorb, through the shell of the skin, +sufficient nourishment, both solid and liquid, to last for twenty-four +hours."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">F</span>ive minutes later we stood in a small room that might have been the +office of an up-to-date physician anywhere in the world. Across the +polished top of a mahogany desk Dr. Semple stared at us, his eyes, +like the eyes of our guide and Fraser, polished and expressionless. +But now we understood. Those eyes were expressionless because there +was nothing to give them expression. I tried to force my mind to +comprehend the almost incomprehensible. We were among men who were not +men! We were fast in the power of human beings who possessed no trace +of humanity, who had become nothing but scientific Robots even though +they still had bodies of flesh and blood! It was unbelievable! My +hands grew cold and my brain hot at the thought. Yet, gazing into the +bright, enamelled eyes of Dr. Semple, I knew it was true.</p> + +<p>Carefully, scientifically, we were prepared for our injections. And +with every mechanical move of the doctor my mind seemed to take on +fresh speed as it raced toward some solution to our terrible problem. +My eyes flew around the tiny office searching for some means of +escape. Doctor Semple turned to prepare the syringe. Behind his back +Brice gestured frantically. Somehow I understood. In my pocket was a +flask—a flask I had filled with drinking water in Constantinople. +Bewildered, I handed it over to him.</p> + +<p>The doctor turned, swabbed a patch of iodine on our arms, reached for +the syringe. As he leaned over, Foulet thrust forward a foot. The +doctor tripped, sprawled full length on the floor. Foulet and I +quickly stooped to pick him up, standing between him and +Brice—shielding his eyes so that he could not see. We fumbled to give +Brice time. We apologized and soothed. Out of the tail of my eye I +could see Brice working like lightning—emptying out the syringe of +that villainous liquid, filling it with clear water.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">I</span>t was done! We raised the doctor to his feet; gave his clothes a +final brush. But as we stood back I know my hands were trembling and I +had to clamp my teeth to keep them from chattering. Were we out of +danger yet? Would the doctor discover our ruse? And, if we got out of +his office without receiving the terrible injection, could we +successfully fool Fraser and his "slaves" into believing we were mad? +Fool them until we got a chance to escape? Could we simulate that +glassy stare? Were we sufficiently good actors to get away with it? +The questions pounded and raced through my brain in that instant when +Doctor Semple turned again to his desk and picked up the syringe.</p> + +<p>But the miracle happened! Mechanically he gave us the injection—never +suspecting that it was not the devilish liquid he had put in, but only +clear water! Then he stepped back and watched us. Cold chills raced up +and down my spine. What were we supposed to do now? What was the +action of the serum? Did it act at once or slowly? Was it supposed to +make us sick? Did it send us to sleep? How could we simulate symptoms +when we had no idea what these symptoms were supposed to be? But the +cold voice of the doctor cut sharply across my agonized questions.</p> + +<p>"You will lie down here," he said, opening a door into a room whose +trails were lined with bunks, like an opium den. "In half an hour I +will come for you. By that time—" His lips spread in that same +travesty of a smile Fraser had employed.</p> + +<p>We filed into the room and the door closed behind us. Obediently we +lay down on the narrow bunks. We dared not speak. We scarcely dared +glance at each other. We must act, at all times, as if we were +observed. Might not Fraser have a ray that could penetrate walls? +Might he not, even now, know that we had outwitted the doctor and had +not received the fatal injection? And what then? Suppose Fraser +himself superintended another injection? I pulled my thoughts back +from the terrible supposition. One thing at a time. So far all had +gone well. I lay down on the bunk and closed my eyes.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later we heard the door open. Now, I, thought, when I +look up, I am supposed to be mad! I struggled to make my mind a blank. +I tried to force into my eyes that peculiar, brilliant, shiny, vacant +expression I had noticed. Would I succeed?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">I</span> raised my eyes. The doctor was standing before us. With a gesture he +bade Foulet go to him. I watched beneath lowered lids. Thank God he +had called Foulet first. Foulet had dabbled in the psychology of +insanity. Foulet would know how to act, and I would ape him. Coldly, +mechanically Doctor Semple ran him through a few tests. I watched with +bated breath. The doctor nodded. Foulet had passed!</p> + +<p>It was my turn. I did exactly as Foulet had done—and succeeded! I +had to turn away swiftly so that the doctor wouldn't see the gleam of +triumph in my supposedly mad eyes.</p> + +<p>He motioned to Brice. But just as Brice stepped forward the door +opened and Fraser came into the room. For an instant everything +reeled. We were gone! But even in that terrible instant of despair I +remembered to keep my eyes blank. No trace of expression must appear +or we were lost. I stretched my lips in that travesty of a smile I had +seen the others use. Fraser stared at us, one after the other. He +nodded.</p> + +<p>"It is well," he said slowly and distinctly as if he were talking to +small children. "Your names will still be as they were." We stared at +him blankly and again he nodded. "You have forgotten your names—ah! +Yours," he pointed to me, "was Ainslee, and it still is. And you are +Monsieur Foulet. But Brice—" he paused. My heart hung in my breast, +suspended there with terror. What was the matter with Brice? What did +Fraser suspect—or know? He turned to the doctor. "You will give +Inspector Brice another injection," he said. "The Inspector has a +strong mind, and a clever one. A normal injection would not be +enough."</p> + +<p>It seemed to me that my blood froze. In that terrible instant it ran, +like tingling ice, through my veins. Brice! The brainiest man in +Scotland Yard! For Fraser was right. Brice had more brains than Foulet +and I together. And in another half hour Brice would be no better than +an idiot! For I didn't fool myself. Even Brice couldn't outwit Doctor +Semple twice.</p> + +<p>"You will follow me," said Fraser, turning to Foulet and me. "I will +put you under the nourishment ray while Doctor Semple attends to +Brice." Obediently, with slightly shuffling, gait and vacant eyes we +followed him into an adjoining room, leaving Brice behind. I didn't +even trust myself to glance at him as we left. But my heart was in my +boots. When would we see him again? And what would he be?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">T</span>he room we entered was dark, but instantly Fraser switched on a +mellow, orange-colored light, that flooded the room with a deep, warm +glow.</p> + +<p>"Strip yourselves and sit down," he said, pointing to deep lounging +chairs that filled the room. "You will do nothing. Relax and allow the +light to bathe you. In half an hour I will come back with +instructions."</p> + +<p>We obeyed, I imitating blindly every vague, mechanical movement of +Foulet's. We settled ourselves in the comfortable chairs and Fraser +left us. He had told us to relax—but to do anything else would have +been impossible. The light soothed us, eased us; gave us, somehow, a +penetrating sensation of peace and complete comfort. It flowed around +us, warming us, lulling us to a delicious dreamy state that was +neither waking nor sleeping. It wiped out danger; it wiped out Time; +nothing existed but this warm and relaxing sense of utter satisfaction +and peace.</p> + +<p>Through this mist of contentment came Fraser's voice, "That is all!" +The light faded gradually, and as gradually we came to ourselves. "You +will dress," directed Fraser in the same clear, clipped manner, "and +you will come to me in my laboratory."</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later we stood before him, vacant-eyed and solemn. +Fraser fastened his black, polished eyes upon us. "You will tell me," +he said distinctly, "all you know."</p> + +<p>We were silent. How could we tell him all we knew when we were +supposed to have forgotten everything? Was this a trap? Or did our +inside secret service information come under the general head of +Science? But before these questions had actually formed in my mind I +remembered that several times Fraser had answered my questions before +they were asked. Might he be a mind reader? Best to take no chances! I +made my conscious mind as blank as possible and gazed back at him. At +my side Foulet made a vague and uncertain noise in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Your countries are afraid of me?" Fraser leaned forward, that smug, +vain smile curling his lips. "Your countries know there is a power +abroad stronger than they? They feel that between the twin horns of +economic pressure and the red menace they will be tossed to +destruction?</p> + +<p>"Destruction?" repeated Foulet with all the vacant inflection of +idiocy.</p> + +<p>"Tossed?" I asked imitating Foulet. But instantly I wondered if we +were taking the right tack for Fraser's eyes grew red with fury.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">"A</span>nswer me!" he raged. "Tell me that your countries know that soon I +shall be master of the world! Tell me they are afraid of me! Tell me +that in the last three years I have slowly gained control of commerce, +of gold! Tell me that they know I hold the economic systems of the +world in the hollow of my hand! Tell me that not a government on earth +but knows it is hanging on the brink of disaster! And I—I put it +there! My agents spread the propaganda of ruin! My agents crashed your +Wall Street and broke your banks! I! I! I! Mad Algy Fraser!" He +stopped, gasping for breath. His face was scarlet. His eyes glowed +like red coals. Suddenly he burst into a cascade of maniacal laughter, +high, insane, terrible.</p> + +<p>It took all my control to keep my eyes blank, my face devoid of +expression. Out of the tail of my eye I saw Foulet smiling, a vague, +idiotic smile of sympathy with Fraser's glee. But suddenly the glee +died—as suddenly as if a button had snapped off the current. He +leaned forward, his black eyes devouring our faces.</p> + +<p>"They are afraid of me?" It was a whisper, sharply eager. "The world +knows I am Master?"</p> + +<p>"Master," repeated Foulet. It wasn't quite a question, yet neither was +it sufficiently definite as an answer to arouse Fraser's suspicions. +To my relief it satisfied him. The congested blood drained out of his +face. His eyes lost their glare. He turned and for several minutes +tramped up and down the laboratory lost in thought. At last he came +back to us.</p> + +<p>"I have changed my mind," he muttered. "Come with me."</p> + +<p>Without a word we followed him, out through the door and down the +passageway. Out of the building he led us. The air was stirring with +the first breath of dawn and along the horizon glowed a band of pure +gold where the sun would soon rise. When he had walked some thirty +yards from the laboratory Fraser paused. With his toe he touched a +spring in the platform. A trap door instantly yawned at our feet. I +suppressed a start just in time, but through my body shot a thrill of +fear. My muscles tensed. My heart raced. What now? Where could a trap +door, two thousand feet above the earth lead? Was he going to shove us +into space because we refused to answer his questions?</p> + +<p>"Go down," Fraser ordered.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">F</span>or the space of a breath we hesitated. To disobey meant certain and +instant death at the hands of this soulless maniac. But to obey—to +drop through this trap-door—also meant death. I took a step forward. +Could we overpower him? But what if we did? There were others here +beside Fraser. How many others I had no idea, but surely enough to +make things impossible for Foulet and me. Yet we dared not even +hesitate. To hesitate implied thinking—and a man robbed of his brain +cannot think! There was no way out. Together Foulet and I stepped to +the brink of the yawning hole....</p> + +<p>For an instant we were almost blinded by a glare of rosy light that +seemed to burst upon us from the earth so far below. Here was the +source of that strange afterglow! Away beneath us, evidently on the +sands of the Arabian desert, glowed four red eyes sending forth the +rosy rays that converged at the center of the floating platform. +Instantly I comprehended Fraser's scheme. The Fleotite he had +invented, and of which the platform and buildings were made, was +lighter than air. It followed, therefore, that if it were not anchored +in some way it would instantly rise. So Fraser had anchored it with +four of his magnetic rays! He had told us that he could regulate the +pulling power of the ray, so what he had obviously done was to +calculate to a nicety the lift of the Fleotite against the magnetism +of the rays.</p> + +<p>But instantaneously with this thought came another. Fraser was urging +us into the glow of the magnetic ray! If once our bodies came entirely +within the ray we would be yanked from the platform and dashed to +death—sucked to destruction on the sands below.</p> + +<p>In my ear I heard Fraser's fiendish chuckle. "The instinct of fear +still holds, eh? My serum can destroy your conscious mind—but not +your native fear? Cowards! Fools! But I am not going to push you off. +Look!" With his foot he pressed another lever which, while it did not +shut off any of the light, seemed to deflect the ray. "Fools!" he said +again scornfully. "Go down!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">T</span>hen it was I saw where he was sending us! Thirty feet below the +platform there swung a small cabin, attached by cables and reached by +a swinging steel ladder. As I looked a door in the roof slid back. +"Climb down!" ordered Fraser again. There was nothing to do but obey. +Accustomed as I was to flying, inured as I had become to great +heights, my head reeled and my hands grew icy as I swung myself +through that trap door and felt for a footing on the swinging ladder. +Suppose Fraser turned the ray back on us as we climbed down? Suppose +he cut the ladder? But instantly my good sense told me he would do +neither. If he had meant to kill us he could have done it easier than +this. No, somewhere in his mad head, he had a reason for sending us +down to this swinging cabin.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later Foulet and I stared at each other in the cramped +confines of our prison. The tiny door in the roof, through which we +had dropped, was closed. The steel ladder had been pulled up. We were +alone. Alone? Were there no eyes that watched us still, or ears that +listened to what we might say? Foulet evidently shared my sense of +espionage, for, without even a glance at me, he lay down on the hard +floor of our bare little cabin and, to all intents and purposes, fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes I stood staring at him, then followed his example. +As I relaxed I realized I was tremendously weary. The cumulative +exhaustion of the past thirty-six hours seemed to crowd upon me with a +smothering sense of physical oppression. I looked at my watch and +wound it. Five o'clock. Through the narrow slits near the roof of our +swinging cell I could see the changing light of dawn, melting in with +the rosy glow from the magnetic rays. My eyelids drooped heavily....</p> + +<p>When I awoke Foulet was standing near me, his arms folded across his +chest, scowling thoughtfully. He nodded as he saw my open eyes, but +when I started to speak he shook his head sharply. With his gesture +there flooded back to me the feeling that we were watched—even +through the walls of our aerial prison and the floor of the platform +above us.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">I</span> sat up and, clasping my knees with my hands, leaned against the +wall. There must be a way out of this for us! All my life I had worked +on the theory that if you thought hard enough there was a way out of +any difficulty. But this seemed so hopeless! No matter how hard we +thought the mad mind of Fraser would always be one jump ahead of us! +And maybe we didn't dare even think! If Fraser were able to read +minds—as I was nearly sure he was—then hadn't we better keep our +minds blank even down here? But an instant's thought showed me the +flaw in my logic. Fraser could, without much doubt, read minds—when +those minds were close to him. If he could read minds at a distance +then he wouldn't need to ask us for information.</p> + +<p>But why had he put us here? I burrowed around for the answer. Had he +guessed we had outwitted Doctor Semple and not taken the mad serum +after all, and was this punishment? No, if Fraser had guessed that he +would simply have given us more serum, as he had Brice. Brice! Where +was poor Brice now? Was he an idiot, with blank face and shiny, +soulless eyes? My mind shuddered away from the thought, taking refuge +in my first question: Why were we here? What was Fraser going to do +with us?</p> + +<p>We lost all track of time. In spite of my winding it my watch stopped +and the hours slipped by uncounted. Night came, and another dawn and +another night. Twice our roof was lifted and our tiny swinging cell +filled with the orange light of the nourishment ray. But we saw no one +nor did anyone speak to us. The third day passed in the same isolated +silence. Occasionally Foulet or I would utter a monosyllable; the +sound of our voices was comforting and the single words would convey +little to a listener.</p> + +<p>But as the hours of the third night slowly passed the atmosphere in +our tiny swinging cell grew tense. Something was going to happen. I +could feel it and I knew by Foulet's eyes that he felt it too. The air +was tight, electrical. Standing on tiptoe, I glued my eyes to the +narrow slit which was our only ventilation. But I could see nothing. +The brilliant rosy glow blinded me. I couldn't even see the huge +platform floating above our heads.</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, our roof slid back. The magnetic ray was deflected. +Above us, in the opening of the trap-door, leered the bright, mad eyes +of Fraser.</p> + +<p>"Good evening," he said mockingly. "How do you feel?" We smiled +hesitantly. Something in his voice made me feel he was addressing us +as sane men and not idiots. But why? Weren't we supposed to be idiots +when he put us down there?</p> + +<p>"You ought to feel all right," Fraser went on critically. "The first +dose of that serum lasts only three days. It's cumulative," he added +with his professional air. "In the beginning an injection every three +days. Then once a week and so on. There's a man who has been with me +for three years who needs treatment only once every three months. +Well, are you ready to talk?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">S</span>o that was it! He had put us down here till the supposed effects of +that serum had worn off; and now we were to talk; tell him everything +his agents had been risking their lives to find out! We were to sell +out our countries to him; betray all the secrets we had sworn by +eternity to keep! If we did as he demanded both France and the United +States would be at his mercy—and he had no mercy! He was not a man; +he was a cruel, power-loving, scientific machine. I clamped my teeth. +Never would I talk! I had sworn to protect my country's secrets with +my life—and my vow would be kept!</p> + +<p>"You will talk?" Fraser asked again, his voice suddenly suave and +beseeching. "For those who talk there are—rewards."</p> + +<p>"Let down the ladder," said Foulet, in a quiet, conversational tone. +"It will be easier to discuss this—"</p> + +<p>Fraser's eyes narrowed to gleaming slits. He smiled craftily. "The +ladder will be let down—when you talk."</p> + +<p>"And if," suggested Foulet, "we don't wish to talk?"</p> + +<p>Fraser's lips stretched in a wider grin. His white teeth gleamed. His +shiny black eyes glittered. In that warm, rosy light he looked like a +demon from hell. He held out his hand. In it shone a long, slender +instrument.</p> + +<p>"This knife," he said softly, "Will cut the steel cables that connect +you to this platform—as if they were cheese! You will talk?" Beside +me I heard Foulet gasp. Swiftly my imagination conjured up the picture +of our fate. Our determined refusal to divulge the secrets of our +respective countries; the severing, one by one, of the four cables +holding us to the platform; the listing of our swinging cell; the +tipping, the last, terrible plunge two thousand feet. But it would be +swift. The power of the magnetic ray would give us no time to +think—to suffer. It would be a merciful end....</p> + +<p>"Let us up," bargained Foulet. "We will talk." Fraser laughed.</p> + +<p>"None of that," he said slyly. "You talk from there and if your +information doesn't dove-tail with what I already know—" he +flourished the steel knife suggestively.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">W</span>e were caught! No amount of bluff would save us now. Fraser demanded +that truth, facts, actual information—and he wouldn't be fooled by +anything spurious. Foulet's shoulder touched mine as we peered up +through the roof of our cell at our mad captor. We spoke together:</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to say."</p> + +<p>The assured smile left Fraser's lips. His eyes glittered red. His +whole mad face was contorted with fury. A volley of oaths poured +through his twisted mouth. With a gesture of insane rage he pulled the +nearest cable to him and slashed it with the knife!</p> + +<p>Our cell tilted. Foulet and I were thrown in a heap on the floor. We +sprang up to face Fraser again through the roof. His mad eyes glared +down at us, soul-chilling, maniacal.</p> + +<p>"Talk!" he snarled. "Talk—or I'll slice another!" He drew the second +cable to him, holding it in readiness.</p> + +<p>I clenched my teeth. Beside me I could see the muscles of Foulet's jaw +working. Talk? Never!</p> + +<p>"Talk!" screamed Fraser. "Talk!" Our silence and our white faces were +his only answer. There was a gleam of the knife in the rosy light. Our +cell lurched, quivered, then caught. Would it hold with only two +cables? It was hanging on its side. We were standing on what had been +the wall. Through the opening in the roof we could see nothing but +rosy light and distant stars. How strong were the cables? Could they +hold against the pull of the magnetic ray? We could feel the pull now; +feel the strain on the cables above us. If Fraser cut the third one—</p> + +<p>"Talk!" his voice came, hoarse with fury. "Talk now! You can't see +me," he went on; "but I'm pulling the third cable toward me. I'm +raising the knife. Will you talk?"</p> + +<p>Standing on that quaking wall Foulet and I stared at each other. How +long would it be? One second? Half a minute? Thank God it would be +quick! This was the worst now. This eternity of waiting.... "I'm +cutting it!" yelled Fraser—and with his words the cell lurched, +swung, whirled like a spinning top. Foulet and I were tossed around +like dried peas in a pod.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the thing steadied. Two steel hooks were clamped on the edge +of the opening in what had been the roof, and Brice stared at us +through the aperture!</p> + +<p>"Quick!" he gasped. "There's not a second to lose. Don't stare! Quick, +I say. I've got the ladder here. It's steel and it'll hold. Climb up."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">D</span>umbly we obeyed. Our heads were whirling, our bodies bruised and +mashed by the shaking up. Blindly, dizzily we climbed up the ladder, +scrambled out on the platform. Solid footing again! As Brice loosed +the ladder and pulled it up, there was a snap. The last cable had +gone! The cell shot down to earth with a speed that must have reduced +it to a powder. Foulet and I stared after it, dazed, unbelieving. +Brice's whisper hissed in our ears.</p> + +<p>"Listen carefully," he gripped our shoulders. "I'm not mad. They shot +the stuff into me, but I found an antidote in Semple's office and used +it right away. Now listen to me! Our plane is over there," he pointed +across the platform. "It's all ready to take off. They think they're +sending me off on an errand for them at dawn. It's ready for a long +trip. Go there; get in; and if any one questions you tell them it's +orders. They won't, though. No one gives orders here but Fraser." +Brice nodded toward a dark heap beside the trap-door.</p> + +<p>"You killed him?" asked Foulet.</p> + +<p>"Stunned him," said Brice. "He may come to at any moment and if he +does—"</p> + +<p>"Suppose we bind him and take him in the plane?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>Brice shook his head. "Leave him here. It's safer. Now go. Get in the +plane and take off—"</p> + +<p>"And not wait for you?" I gasped, "You're crazy—"</p> + +<p>"I'll be there. You can pick me up later. There's no time to +explain—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 dim +shadow of which we could see across the platform.</p> + +<p>We took a step toward it, and then turned back. How could we go +without Brice? But he had vanished. And in the shadow of the trap door +Fraser groaned.</p> + +<p>We waited no longer. To hesitate was to court death. Deliberately, as +if we were acting under orders, we walked toward the plane. As Brice +had said, it was in readiness. Evidently he was to have started at +once. We climbed in, our hearts in our throats. A mechanic stepped +forward. The propeller roared. But, above the roar of the propeller we +heard a yell of fury—and Fraser, dazed and reeling, came stumbling +across the platform toward us!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">F</span>oulet took the controls. The plane taxied across the platform, +swooped into space. But it was not till it had risen and steadied that +I realized the complete idiocy of our forlorn hope of escape. What +fools we were! And Brice—Brice must, in truth, be mad! How could we +get away? How could we ever escape the terrific power of the magnetic +ray? That ray that Fraser worked himself from his laboratory—the ray +that had drawn us first across the desert to this floating island of +madness! It would be a matter of seconds before Fraser would reach it +and turn it on us. There was no escape—none!</p> + +<p>In despair I looked back at the platform. To eyes ignorant of its +horror it would have been an amazing and gorgeous sight. The crimson +lamps of the magnetic ray bloomed like huge desert flowers on the sand +two thousand feet below us; the rays flamed up with the glory of an +Italian sunset and, poised in space like a dark butterfly, floated the +huge platform bathed in its rosy light. It was beautiful. It was +unbelievable. It was horrible. I gazed, fascinated. When would Fraser +reach the lamp? When would he turn it on? I stared at the dark shadow +that I knew was the laboratory building. My eyes strained through the +growing distance. When would the glow come? That glow that meant our +death!</p> + +<p>Suddenly I gasped. The light had gone! The great lamps down on the +desert floor were out! Darkness, swift, comforting, wrapped us in +velvet folds.</p> + +<p>"Brice!" I yelled. "Brice has cut off the lamps—he's released the +platform. God! Look—Foulet!" My voice tore through my throat; my eyes +burned with sudden, blinding emotion. In the soft darkness of the +starry night I could see the platform waver, topple, rise! It rose +straight up, tilting and swaying in the light breeze. What was it +Fraser had said? If it was released it would go straight to the stars! +It was on its way!</p> + +<p>But Brice! Where was Brice? Was he on that terrible rising island? I +strained my eyes through the darkness. Already Foulet had banked the +plane—we were circling; turning back. A tiny white speck took shape +beneath the rising island. A parachute! Brice was safe!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><span class="f1">T</span>en minutes later we slid along the hard desert sand and came to a +stop. Brice came running over toward us. Foulet and I climbed out of +the plane to meet him. Silently we gripped hands. It was a solemn +moment. Beside us reared the great plane that would take us back to +safety—back to the familiar life we knew and loved. Around us +stretched the trackless wastes of the Great Arabian Desert—and above, +somewhere between us and the stars, soared the floating island of +madness.</p> + +<p>"They believed I was mad," said Brice as we climbed back into the +plane. "I watched Fraser. I spied on the men. There were about thirty +up there, and finally I saw where they regulated those lamps. The rest +was easy—all except the minute when I found Fraser kneeling beside +that trap-door slicing the cables. For a second I thought it was all +up."</p> + +<p>"You got us just in time," I muttered. But you can't be grateful with +an Englishman. They won't stand for it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, bosh," Brice murmured, as the plane swung its nose toward that +far distance that was home. "Well, it's all over—but it's a story +that can never be told. The fate of Mad Fraser will have to remain a +mystery—for no one would believe us if we told them!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Floating Island of Madness, by Jason Kirby + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOATING ISLAND OF MADNESS *** + +***** This file should be named 29421-h.htm or 29421-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/2/29421/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 + + +Title: The Floating Island of Madness + +Author: Jason Kirby + +Release Date: July 16, 2009 [EBook #29421] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOATING ISLAND OF MADNESS *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Astounding Stories January 1933. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the + U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + The Floating Island of Madness + + + By Jason Kirby + + * * * * * + + + + +[Sidenote: Far above the Arabian Desert three Secret Service men find +an aerial island whose inhabitants are--madmen.] + + +Above us curved the pale, hot bowl of cloudless sky; below us +stretched the rolling, tawny wastes of the great Arabian Desert; and +away to the east, close to the dipping horizon, scudded the tiny speck +we were following. We had been following it since dawn and it was now +close to sunset. Where was it leading us? Should we go on or turn +back? How much longer would our gas and oil hold out? And just where +were we? I turned and saw my questions reflected in the eyes of my +companions, Paul Foulet of the French Surete and Douglas Brice of +Scotland Yard. + +"Too fast!" shouted Brice above the roar of our motors. I nodded. His +gesture explained his meaning. The plane ahead had suddenly taken on a +terrific, unbelievable speed. All day it had traveled normally, +maintaining, but not increasing, the distance between us. But in the +last fifteen minutes it had leaped into space. Fifteen minutes before +it had been two miles in the lead; now it was barely visible. A tiny, +vanishing speck. What could account for this burst of superhuman +speed? Who was in that plane? _What_ was in that plane? + +I glanced at Foulet. He shrugged non-committally, waving a courteous +hand toward Brice. I understood; I agreed with him. This was Brice's +party, and the decision was up to him. Foulet and I just happened to +be along; it was partly design and partly coincidence. + + * * * * * + +Two days before I had been in Constantinople. I was disheartened and +utterly disgusted. All the way from the home office of the United +States Secret Service in Washington I had trailed my man, only to lose +him. On steamships, by railway, airplane and motor we had +traveled--always with my quarry just one tantalizing jump ahead of +me--and in Constantinople I had lost him. And it was a ruse a child +should have seen through. I could have beaten my head against a wall. + +And then, suddenly, I had run into Foulet. Not ten days before I had +talked to him in his office in Paris. I had told him a little of my +errand, for I was working on the hunch that this man I was after +concerned not only the United States, but France and the Continent as +well. And what Foulet told me served only to strengthen my conviction. +So, meeting him in Constantinople was a thin ray of light in my +disgusted darkness. At least I could explode to a kindred spirit. + +"Lost your man!" was his greeting. And it wasn't a question; it was a +statement. + +"How did you know?" I growled. My humiliation was too fresh to stand +kidding. + +"Constantinople," said Foulet amiably. "You always lose them in +Constantinople. I've lost three here." + +"Three?" I said, "Like mine!" + +"Exactly," he nodded. Then he lowered his voice. "Come to my hotel. We +can talk there." + +"Now," he continued fifteen minutes later as we settled ourselves in +his room, "you were very circumspect in Paris. You told me +little--just a hint here and there. But it was enough. You--the United +States--have joined our ranks--" + +"You mean--" + +"I mean that for a year we, the various secret service organizations +of the Continent--and that includes, of course, Scotland Yard--have +been after--Well, to be frank, we don't know what we're after. But we +do know this. There is a power--there is someone, somewhere, who is +trying to conquer the world." + +[Illustration: _A white speck took shape beneath the rising Island._] + +"Are you serious?" I glanced at him but the tight lines of his set +mouth convinced me. "I beg your pardon," I murmured. "Go ahead." + +"I don't blame you for thinking it was a jest," he said imperturbably, +"But, to prove I know what I'm talking about, let me tell you what +this man has done whom you have been pursuing. He has done one of two +things. Either he has proved himself a dangerous revolutionary or he +has engineered the failure of a bank or chain of banks--" + +"We can't prove it," I interrupted. + +"No," said Foulet, "Neither can we. Neither can Scotland Yard--or the +secret services of Belgium or Germany or Italy or Spain. But there you +are--" + +"You mean that in all these countries--?" + +"I mean that for a year--probably longer--these countries have been +and are being steadily, and systematically, undermined. The morale of +the people is being weakened; their faith in their government is being +betrayed--and someone is behind it. Someone who can think faster and +plan more carefully than we--someone whose agents we always lose in +Constantinople! I'll wager you lost your man from a roof-top." + +I nodded, my disgust at my own stupidity returning in full force. +"There was a lower roof and a maze of crisscross alleys," I muttered. +"He got away." + +"Was there an airplane anywhere around?" asked Foulet. + +I glanced at him in surprise. What good would an airplane have been on +a roof-top ten feet wide by twelve feet long? Then I remembered. +"There was an airplane," I said, "but it was a long way off, and I +could scarcely see it; but the air was very still and I heard the +motor." + +Foulet nodded, "And if you had had a pair of glasses," he said gently, +"You would have seen that the airplane had a glider attached to it. +There is always an airplane--and a glider--when we lose our men from +the roofs of Constantinople." + +"But that must be coincidence!" I insisted. "Why, I was on that roof +right on the fellow's heels--and the airplane was at least five miles +away!" + +Foulet shrugged, "Coincidence--possibly," he said, "but it is our only +clue." + +"Of course," I murmured thoughtfully, "you have never been able to +follow--" + +Foulet smiled, "Can you imagine where that airplane would be by the +time we climbed down off our roofs and got to a flying field and +started in pursuit?" + + * * * * * + +We descended for dinner. Foulet's story had restored my +self-confidence somewhat--but I was still sore. Of course Foulet +connecting my vanishing man with that disappearing airplane was +absurd--but where had the man gone? Was my supposition that he had +jumped to a lower roof, climbed a wall and run through the maze of +alleyways in half a minute in any way less absurd? + +We were halfway through dinner when Brice appeared. Brice was one of +the best men in Scotland Yard and I had known him many years. So, +evidently, had Foulet, for his eyes flickered faintly with pleased +surprise at the sight of him. Brice came directly to our table. He was +bursting with victorious joy. I could feel it somehow, although his +face, carefully schooled to betray no emotion, was placid and casual. + +All through the remainder of the meal I could feel the vibrations of +his excitement. But it was only at the very end that he confided +anything--and his confidence only served to make the excitement and +sense of impending thrill greater. + +Just as he was rising to leave he shoved a tiny strip of paper across +the table to me with a sidelong glance at Foulet. "Another roof-top," +I read scrawled in pencil. "If you like, meet me at the flying field +before dawn." If I liked! I shoved the paper across to Foulet who read +it and carelessly twisted it into a spill to light his cigar. But his +hand shook ever so slightly. + +Needless to say we went to the flying field shortly after midnight. +Bruce was there, pacing up and down restlessly. Near him was a huge +tri-motored biplane, its motor humming in readiness. + +"I've put a man on the trail in my place," Brice told us briefly. +"Somebody else is going to lose the scent on a roof-top--and I'm going +to watch." + + * * * * * + +We settled to our wait. To me it seemed absurdly hopeless. The flying +field was on a slight rise. Below us spread the dark shadow that was +Constantinople. There was no moon to give it form and substance--it +was just a lake of deeper darkness, a spreading mass of silent +roof-tops and minarets. How did Brice expect to see his quarry escape? +Suppose he fled during the night? And even with daylight-- + +The first streaks of dawn found us still waiting, our ears strained +for the hum of an airplane motor. But hardly had the golden rim of the +sun appeared over the horizon when it came. It came from the +east--straight out of the golden glory of the sun. Nearer and nearer +it came; an airplane--alone. + +"It hasn't got the glider," muttered Foulet and his tone was tinged +with disappointment. But hardly had he spoken when, from one of the +myriad roof-tops below us, rose a swift streak of shadow. So fast it +flew, with such unbelievable speed, that to our eyes it was little +more 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 had +flown alone, now was towing a glider--a glider that had arisen, as if +by magic, from the housetops! + +Another instant and we had piled into the cockpit of the tri-motored +plane and were off on our pursuit. That pursuit that led us on and on +till, as the sun sank behind us, we found ourselves above the +illimitable, tawny wastes of the great Arabian Desert. + +And now--what? All day long, as I have said, the plane we were +pursuing had maintained, but never increased, the distance between us. +Each hour had brought us renewed hope that the next hour would bring +capture--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 down +for fear of destroying our one meager chance of following it to its +destination. + + * * * * * + +And now it had vanished. Suddenly, unaccountably it had taken on that +terrific burst of speed which I have described. In ten minutes it had +become a speck on the far horizon--in another instant it was gone. We +were alone. Night was falling. If we turned back our gas might bring +us to safety. If we went on--what? + +I turned to my companions. Foulet still maintained his non-committal +attitude, but Brice was deeply disappointed and worried. His ruddy +English face was knotted in a scowl and his blue eyes were dark. +Quickly he jerked his head back. We understood. Of course, turning +back was the only thing to do; to go on was absurd. Our quarry had +totally disappeared. But it was heart-breaking. Once again we had +been fooled and outwitted. Our disappointment filled that tiny cockpit +like a tangible mist. Brice threw over the stick with a gesture of +disgust. In response our right wing lifted a bit, seemed to shake +itself, then settled--and the plane continued on its course. Brice's +eyes flickered with surprise. He shoved the stick back, threw it over +again, but toward the opposite side. Obediently our left wing lifted +as if to bank, a shudder passed through it, it dropped, the plane +leveled, and went on. + +Foulet leaned forward, his eyes were gleaming, his face flushed and +eager. "Climb!" he yelled above the roar of the motors. "Up!" Brice +nodded--but it was no use. That plane was like a live thing; nothing +we 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. It +was the machine that refused to obey. + +Again Foulet leaned forward. "Drop!" he shouted. Brice nodded, but the +plane 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 and +I leaned forward to watch results. + +The motors slowed. Gradually the roaring, pounding hum lessened, and +our speed continued! The whine of the wind in the wires abated not one +whit! The speedometer on our instrument board climbed! + +Brice turned. His face, in the deepening dusk, was a blur of pasty +white. His hands hung at his sides. The motors purred, pulsed, were +silent. The plane, unaided, unguided, flew alone! + + * * * * * + +We sat hushed and unbelieving in that terrible, deathlike silence. Our +ears, attuned all day to the deafening roar of the motors, felt as if +they would burst in the sudden, agonizing stillness. There was not a +sound 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 lay +the empty stretch of blank desert. + +We didn't speak. I know that I, for one, could not bring my voice to +break that ominous stillness. Silently we sat there, watching, +waiting.... The quick darkness of the desert fell like a velvet +curtain. The stars burst forth as if lit by an invisible hand. Foulet +stirred, leaned forward, gasped. My eyes followed his gaze. Before our +plane spread a path of light, dull, ruddily glowing, like the ghost of +live embers. It cut the darkness of the night like a flaming +finger--and along it we sped as if on an invisible track! + +"The speed of that other plane," muttered Brice, breaking that utter +silence, "This was it!" + +Foulet and I nodded. Well could I imagine that we were travelling at +that same terrific, impossible speed. And we were helpless--helpless +in the clutch of--what? What power lay behind this band of light that +drew us irresistibly toward it? + +The ruddy pathway brightened. The light grew stronger. Our speed +increased. The whine of the wires was tuned almost past human hearing. +The plane trembled like a live thing in the grip of inhuman forces. A +great glowing eye suddenly burst from the rim of the horizon--the +source of the light! Instinctively I closed my eyes. What power might +that eye possess? The same thought must have struck Brice and Foulet +for 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 it +couldn't have been more than two minutes. The glare increased. It +threw into sharp, uncanny relief every tiny detail of the cockpit and +of our faces. The light was as powerful as a searchlight, but not so +blinding. It had a rosy, diffused quality that the searchlight lacks. + + * * * * * + +In that eternity of tense waiting I tried to collect my thoughts. I +told myself that I must keep steady, that I must keep my mind clear. I +struggled to get a grip on myself; the light, the steady flying +without power, the boundless, horrible silence had shaken me. But +there was more to come. I knew it. We all knew it. And it was not +physical strength that would pull us through--it was wits. We must +hold steady. Thank God we all had years of training--war experience, +peace experience, countless life-and-death adventures--behind us. It +would all count now. It would all help us to keep out brains clear and +cool. Wits, I thought again, only our wits would stand between us +and--what? + +The ground wheels of the plane struck something solid; rolled; +stopped! The light snapped off. The sudden blackness, falling like a +blanket of thick fur, choked me. In that first dazed, gasping instant +I 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 had +been, close to two thousand feet above the earth! + +Then came the sound of running feet and a confused blur of voices. The +door of the cockpit was thrown open. A man leaned in, his hand on the +jamb. + +"Inspector Brice," he said quietly. "Monsieur Foulet. Lieutenant +Ainslee. We are glad to welcome you." His words were courteous, but +something in his tone sent a tingling chill down my spine. It was +cold, as soulless as the clink of metal. It was dull, without life or +inflection. But there was something else--something I could not name. + + * * * * * + +I was nearest the door and scrambled out first. To my surprise it was +not dark. We were enveloped by a radiance, rosy as the broad ray had +been, but fainter, like the afterglow of a sunset. By this light I +could make out, vaguely, our surroundings. We seemed to be on a +plateau; a great flat space probably an acre in extent, surrounded by +a six-foot wall. Behind us there was a wide gateway through which our +airplane had just come and across which workmen were dropping bars +made of some material like cement. Before us, dotting this acre or so +of plateau, were small, domed structures made of the same cement-like +material. In the center of the plateau rose a larger domed building +with a segment of its roof open to the stars and through this opening +I could see the shadowy suggestion of a great lamp. There was the +source of that powerful magnetic ray! + +Foulet and Brice scrambled out and stood beside me. They said never a +word, but I knew that every sense was alert. + +"If you will follow me," that same cold, expressionless voice +murmured. I turned to look at the man. He was not bad looking, clean +shaven, well tailored. He swung his eyes to meet my gaze and as he did +so that same chill fled along my spine. His eyes--what was the matter +with them? They were dark--brown or black--and as shiny as shoe +buttons. But there was no gleam of expression in them. Their shine was +the glitter of polished glass. + +Without a word we followed him across the small cleared space where +our airplane stood, past a row of the small, domed structures to a low +door cut in the white wall of the great central building. At the +doorway he turned. + +"I am taking you to the Master," he said; then, over his shoulder he +added. "There is no means of escape--we are two thousand feet above +the earth!" And he laughed--a quick, short cackle of crazy laughter. I +felt the breath catch in my throat and the short hairs prickle at my +neck. Foulet gripped my arm. Through my coat I could feel the chill of +his fingers, but his grasp steadied me. + +We walked on, following our guide. Down a narrow passageway, through a +low arched door into a small room, evidently an ante-chamber to a +larger room beyond. Without a word our guide left us, passing through +another door which he closed after him. + +Brice and Foulet and I exchanged looks, but we were silent. It might +be we were watched. It might be that the very walls had ears. We could +trust nothing. + +Our guide returned. "The Master," he said and flung open a wide door. + + * * * * * + +We found ourselves in a large room filled with paraphernalia of all +sorts: wires, lights, laboratory tables cluttered with test tubes and +apparatus--and in the midst of this ordered chaos stood a man, his +gleaming eyes watching us fixedly. + +At first I was conscious of nothing but his eyes. Large, coal black +and shiny with that peculiar, expressionless gloss I had noted in the +eyes of our guide. Later I realized that he was of slight build, +meticulously neat, with a tiny black waxed mustache and a carefully +trimmed Van Dyke beard. + +"Welcome to my floating island," he said gravely, never swerving those +shiny eyes for an instant. "We have hoped long for your coming." He +paused, noiselessly rubbing his hands, and watching us. We stared +back, fascinated by that glossy, fixed gaze. "There is much to tell +you," he went on, "and to ask you." He permitted himself a slow smile +that spread his lips but failed to reach his eyes. "During your stay +here," he continued, "which I hope will be both long and profitable, +you will become my slaves and will know me as Master. But before you +come under my domination you may know my name." + +For the first time he moved his eyes. His glance swept the room as if +to assure himself we were alone. He stepped, as swiftly and softly as +a cat, over to the door through which we had entered, opened it, spoke +to our guide who was waiting in the ante-room, closed it and returned. +He faced us, his lips smiling and his eyes as blank as polished agate. + +"My name," he said softly, "is Algernon--Frederick--Fraser!" He paused +and watched us. Behind me I felt Foulet start; I heard Brice's quickly +suppressed gasp. My own throat closed on words that might have been +fatal. Algernon Frederick Fraser! Was it possible? Could it be? + +Five years before Fraser had suddenly burst on the world of science. +He had made some amazing discoveries regarding the power of light; +discoveries that would reorganize the living conditions of the world. +For a week or two the papers were filled with the man's amazing +genius; then no more was heard of him. Had he died? What was the +story? + + * * * * * + +Two years passed and even the name of Fraser was forgotten. Then +suddenly it burst forth again in the headlines of the world. Fraser +had disappeared! Fraser had vanished! But not as a brilliant genius of +science; he had gone as an escaped lunatic! After his amazing burst of +fame his mind snapped. Somehow the story had been kept out of the +press. + +Fraser was incarcerated in a quiet, very private asylum, and that was +all. All--until he escaped. When that happened the story couldn't be +hushed any longer. The press was informed, the people were warned. He +became known as the Mad Menace. The police and secret service +organizations of the world searched for him. His name became a byword. +Where had he gone? What would he do? What was his scheme? For he was +still the astounding scientific genius. That portion of his mind was +untouched. At the time of his escape the physicians in charge of the +case assured the press that Fraser's scientific mind was every bit as +sound as ever. + +And that was all. Aside from his god Science he was a maniac--inhuman, +cruel, unreasoning. What would such a man do loosed in the world? What +might he not do? Was it possible that it was this man who stood before +us now with his eyes fastened upon us so intently and his lips spread +in that little, empty smile? Suddenly I knew! Those eyes! Those eyes +were the shiny, vacuous, soulless eyes of a madman! + +"I see," he said softly, "that you have heard of me. But it is three +years since your world has seen me--yes?" He laughed--a low laugh that +seemed to freeze the air around him. "They call me mad." His smile +faded, his eyes bored through us like steel needles. "I am not mad! No +madman could do what I have done in three years!" For the first time +an expression flickered in his eyes--a crafty gleam of vanity that +flared instantaneously. "Would you like to see?" He leaned toward us. +We bowed, but it was Brice who spoke. + +"Very much, Doctor Fraser--" + +"Don't call me that!" The man whirled like a tiger ready to spring. +"Don't call me that! I am Master here! Call me Master! Say it." His +voice rose to a shriek. "Say it--Master!" + + * * * * * + +I clamped my teeth against the bloodless horror of that maniacal +voice. It chilled my veins. Again I felt the hair rise on my scalp. +Brice bowed quietly; and his eyes, serene and blue, met Fraser's +fairly. + +"Of course, Master." His low English voice soothed the bristling +silence. "I am sure I speak for Monsieur Foulet and Lieutenant Ainslee +when I say that we would be most deeply interested in your +achievements." + +Fraser was placated. He relaxed. He softly rubbed his hands while a +smug, crafty smile flitted across his lips. "You will follow me," he +murmured. + +He led the way back through the ante-room and down the passageway till +we stood again under the stars, and again I was struck by the strange +light, warm and faint and rosy like a sunset afterglow. As if he read +my thought Fraser turned to me. + +"I will show you first the source of this rosy light; that, I believe, +will explain a great deal." He led the way down one of the narrow +pathways between the low, domed houses--if they could be called +houses, for they were little larger than kennels. At the six-foot wall +that surrounded this plateau he paused. "Would you like to look over +the wall?" he asked. + +For the space of a breath we hesitated. Was this a trap? Through my +mind flashed the words of the man who had guided us to Fraser. "You +are two thousand feet above the earth," he had said. Was that true? +And if it were, might not Fraser push us over the wall? But instantly +logic came to my rescue. Fraser had brought us here, and he could have +brought us for but one thing: to question us. Would he be apt to do us +harm before those questions were asked? And besides, would Fraser's +brilliantly subtle mind stoop so low as to destroy enemies by pushing +them over a wall? + +"Thank you," we murmured simultaneously. "This whole achievement is of +tremendous interest to us," Foulet added. + +Fraser chuckled. "It will be of greater interest--later," he said, and +his blank, glittering eyes rested on first one of us, then another +with a cold, satisfied gleam. Then he lifted his hand and opened a +square door in the wall about the size of a port-hole. To my surprise +the little door swung back as lightly as a feather and made scarcely a +sound as it slammed against the wall itself. Again Fraser answered my +unspoken thought. + +"It has only substance," he said with his vain smirk. "No weight +whatever. This entire platform together with its huts is lighter than +air. If I should tear loose this little door it would float out of my +hands instantly and go straight up to the stars. The substance--I have +called it Fleotite--is not only lighter than air but lighter than +ether." + +"But we are not floating," said Brice; "we are stationary. Is the +lightness of your Fleotite counteracted by the weight of the men and +machines?" + +Fraser shook his head. "Not entirely," he said. "But first look +through this little window. Then I will explain." + + * * * * * + +Eagerly we pressed forward. Our danger was almost forgotten in our +interest. This was amazing--stupendous! Together, shoulder to +shoulder, we gazed through the aperture. We were suspended in space! +Above us shone the blue-black Arabian night, and beneath us--far, far +beneath--lay the sands of the desert looking rosy and warm in that +same dull red glare of light that, to a fainter degree, gave us the +effect of afterglow. But we were not floating; we were anchored as +securely as a ship riding in a calm harbor. + +We turned back to Fraser, amazed, awed, bursting with questions. +Madman he might be, but he had wrought a miracle. + +"I will explain," he said and his eyes gleamed with pride. "Of course +you know of my tremendous discoveries connected with the power of +light. At any rate, five years ago, the scientific world on earth +thought they were tremendous. In reality that was nothing to my +amazing strides in the past three years. There is nothing that cannot +be done with light! Nothing!" For the first time Fraser's eyes became +alive. They were illumined. His whole body seemed to radiate light and +fire and genius. We listened, fascinated. + +"Take, for instance," he continued eagerly, "that ray with which I +drew you and your plane to me. That ray is the pure power of +magnetism. At full strength it will draw anything to it instantly. +Fortunately the power can be regulated: I can switch a lever in my +laboratory and draw things to me, via the ray, at any speed I +wish--one hundred, two hundred, a thousand miles an hour." + + * * * * * + +"How far can you throw the ray?" asked Foulet, and I knew he was +thinking of that glider that rose from the roof-tops of +Constantinople. Fraser also knew he was thinking of that. + +"I did not draw the glider," he said quietly. "The airplane I sent did +that. My airplanes carry batteries of this ray. In the beginning I +found gliders to be more practical for my purposes than airplanes. For +one thing they were silent. My only problem was that of getting them +off the ground. Once they were in the air I could manage everything. +It was this problem that inspired this discovery and perfection of the +ray. But, you asked how far I can throw the ray? This main lamp, that +I operate myself from here, is effective at two hundred miles. At one +hundred miles it enjoys its full power." + +"And you can draw anything to you," asked Brice, "within the radius of +the magnetic ray?" + +"Anything in the air," answered Fraser. "But of course I must use +caution. Great caution. If I drew planes to me indiscriminately I +would draw attention to myself; my secret and my location here would +leak out. No. That must not be. So the only planes I bring are my +own--and yours." He paused and his black eyes, again glassy, swept +over us. "It is a compliment I pay you," he said finally. "You have +become too troublesome. You know too much. Sooner or later the time +would come when you would combine your forces. That would be a +nuisance. So I decided to bring you here." + +"Suppose," asked Foulet curiously, "we hadn't fallen into your trap? +Suppose we had turned back before reaching the point where your ray is +effective?" + +Fraser shook his head and that smug, offensive smile appeared again. +"You were trapped from the beginning, though you didn't know it," he +said. "The plane you were following was equipped with batteries of the +ray which, while not as powerful as the lamp I have here, were still +powerful enough to hold you to the course we choose you to run. But +enough of the ray," he added impatiently. "There are one or two other +things I want to explain and then--" he paused and the pause, somehow, +was alive with menace. What was he going to do after he had finished +treating us as honored guests? For the third time he answered my +unspoken question. His eyes narrowed till they were black, glittering +slits. His voice, as he leaned toward us, was no more than a hissing +whisper. + + * * * * * + +"Slaves!" he said, and his lips twisted. "How will you like to be +slaves of Mad Algy Fraser?" He laughed--a chuckle that started in his +throat and rose and rose till it seemed to shatter my ear-drums. I +felt my teeth grinding together and my nails bit my palms in my effort +to control my nerves against the strain of that maniacal glee. +Suddenly he sobered. His laugh died instantly like a radio that had +been snapped off. "Listen and I will tell you. I will tell you +everything because it is necessary for you to know so that you may +work for me intelligently and you will remember better and be of +greater use to me if I tell you now while you are yet--sane!" + +"Sane!" The exclamation sprang from the three of us simultaneously. I +felt a cold chill start between my shoulder blades. For an instant my +breath choked in my throat. My heart paused--and then raced. What did +he mean? What was he going to do to us? What scheme had he evolved in +his crazed brain? + +"I have perfected a serum"--his tone was professional, cold; he might +have been talking to a class in a lecture room--"a serum that robs the +patient of every vestige of human emotion--and therefore sanity. All +his intellect, his memories, however, remain, to serve him in carrying +out my orders. He loses all his will to live and resist, and becomes +nothing but an automaton, whose complete mental equipment is at my +command." + +There was silence. His glassy black eyes, blank and soulless, swept +over us. His mouth curled in that smug, complacent smile. He had us +with our shoulders to the floor. He knew it--and he knew we knew it. +There was no possible way we could escape. We were two thousand feet +above the earth. Our plane wouldn't get a quarter of a mile before the +magnetic ray would bring it back. Parachute? Even supposing we could +get parachutes where would we go? Drop two thousand feet into the +middle of the Arabian Desert? + +My brain raced. Never before had I been in such a tight place. And +soon--if Fraser had his way--I wouldn't even have a mind to think +with! I felt choked, stifled. Was there no way out? It seemed to me +that a blanket--a soft, terrible blanket of uncontrollable +circumstance--was being folded around me, robbing me of the use of my +limbs, paralyzing me, numbing me. And out of this terrible +helplessness came again Fraser's voice. + +"I have told you enough," he said suavely, "so that you may have a +faint idea of my power. I will send you now to Doctor Semple who will +administer the serum and place you under the 'nourishment ray.' This +is another of my discoveries," he added casually. "It is a ray which +allows the patient to absorb, through the shell of the skin, +sufficient nourishment, both solid and liquid, to last for twenty-four +hours." + + * * * * * + +Five minutes later we stood in a small room that might have been the +office of an up-to-date physician anywhere in the world. Across the +polished top of a mahogany desk Dr. Semple stared at us, his eyes, +like the eyes of our guide and Fraser, polished and expressionless. +But now we understood. Those eyes were expressionless because there +was nothing to give them expression. I tried to force my mind to +comprehend the almost incomprehensible. We were among men who were not +men! We were fast in the power of human beings who possessed no trace +of humanity, who had become nothing but scientific Robots even though +they still had bodies of flesh and blood! It was unbelievable! My +hands grew cold and my brain hot at the thought. Yet, gazing into the +bright, enamelled eyes of Dr. Semple, I knew it was true. + +Carefully, scientifically, we were prepared for our injections. And +with every mechanical move of the doctor my mind seemed to take on +fresh speed as it raced toward some solution to our terrible problem. +My eyes flew around the tiny office searching for some means of +escape. Doctor Semple turned to prepare the syringe. Behind his back +Brice gestured frantically. Somehow I understood. In my pocket was a +flask--a flask I had filled with drinking water in Constantinople. +Bewildered, I handed it over to him. + +The doctor turned, swabbed a patch of iodine on our arms, reached for +the syringe. As he leaned over, Foulet thrust forward a foot. The +doctor tripped, sprawled full length on the floor. Foulet and I +quickly stooped to pick him up, standing between him and +Brice--shielding his eyes so that he could not see. We fumbled to give +Brice time. We apologized and soothed. Out of the tail of my eye I +could see Brice working like lightning--emptying out the syringe of +that villainous liquid, filling it with clear water. + + * * * * * + +It was done! We raised the doctor to his feet; gave his clothes a +final brush. But as we stood back I know my hands were trembling and I +had to clamp my teeth to keep them from chattering. Were we out of +danger yet? Would the doctor discover our ruse? And, if we got out of +his office without receiving the terrible injection, could we +successfully fool Fraser and his "slaves" into believing we were mad? +Fool them until we got a chance to escape? Could we simulate that +glassy stare? Were we sufficiently good actors to get away with it? +The questions pounded and raced through my brain in that instant when +Doctor Semple turned again to his desk and picked up the syringe. + +But the miracle happened! Mechanically he gave us the injection--never +suspecting that it was not the devilish liquid he had put in, but only +clear water! Then he stepped back and watched us. Cold chills raced up +and down my spine. What were we supposed to do now? What was the +action of the serum? Did it act at once or slowly? Was it supposed to +make us sick? Did it send us to sleep? How could we simulate symptoms +when we had no idea what these symptoms were supposed to be? But the +cold voice of the doctor cut sharply across my agonized questions. + +"You will lie down here," he said, opening a door into a room whose +trails were lined with bunks, like an opium den. "In half an hour I +will come for you. By that time--" His lips spread in that same +travesty of a smile Fraser had employed. + +We filed into the room and the door closed behind us. Obediently we +lay down on the narrow bunks. We dared not speak. We scarcely dared +glance at each other. We must act, at all times, as if we were +observed. Might not Fraser have a ray that could penetrate walls? +Might he not, even now, know that we had outwitted the doctor and had +not received the fatal injection? And what then? Suppose Fraser +himself superintended another injection? I pulled my thoughts back +from the terrible supposition. One thing at a time. So far all had +gone well. I lay down on the bunk and closed my eyes. + +Half an hour later we heard the door open. Now, I, thought, when I +look up, I am supposed to be mad! I struggled to make my mind a blank. +I tried to force into my eyes that peculiar, brilliant, shiny, vacant +expression I had noticed. Would I succeed? + + * * * * * + +I raised my eyes. The doctor was standing before us. With a gesture he +bade Foulet go to him. I watched beneath lowered lids. Thank God he +had called Foulet first. Foulet had dabbled in the psychology of +insanity. Foulet would know how to act, and I would ape him. Coldly, +mechanically Doctor Semple ran him through a few tests. I watched with +bated breath. The doctor nodded. Foulet had passed! + +It was my turn. I did exactly as Foulet had done--and succeeded! I +had to turn away swiftly so that the doctor wouldn't see the gleam of +triumph in my supposedly mad eyes. + +He motioned to Brice. But just as Brice stepped forward the door +opened and Fraser came into the room. For an instant everything +reeled. We were gone! But even in that terrible instant of despair I +remembered to keep my eyes blank. No trace of expression must appear +or we were lost. I stretched my lips in that travesty of a smile I had +seen the others use. Fraser stared at us, one after the other. He +nodded. + +"It is well," he said slowly and distinctly as if he were talking to +small children. "Your names will still be as they were." We stared at +him blankly and again he nodded. "You have forgotten your names--ah! +Yours," he pointed to me, "was Ainslee, and it still is. And you are +Monsieur Foulet. But Brice--" he paused. My heart hung in my breast, +suspended there with terror. What was the matter with Brice? What did +Fraser suspect--or know? He turned to the doctor. "You will give +Inspector Brice another injection," he said. "The Inspector has a +strong mind, and a clever one. A normal injection would not be +enough." + +It seemed to me that my blood froze. In that terrible instant it ran, +like tingling ice, through my veins. Brice! The brainiest man in +Scotland Yard! For Fraser was right. Brice had more brains than Foulet +and I together. And in another half hour Brice would be no better than +an idiot! For I didn't fool myself. Even Brice couldn't outwit Doctor +Semple twice. + +"You will follow me," said Fraser, turning to Foulet and me. "I will +put you under the nourishment ray while Doctor Semple attends to +Brice." Obediently, with slightly shuffling, gait and vacant eyes we +followed him into an adjoining room, leaving Brice behind. I didn't +even trust myself to glance at him as we left. But my heart was in my +boots. When would we see him again? And what would he be? + + * * * * * + +The room we entered was dark, but instantly Fraser switched on a +mellow, orange-colored light, that flooded the room with a deep, warm +glow. + +"Strip yourselves and sit down," he said, pointing to deep lounging +chairs that filled the room. "You will do nothing. Relax and allow the +light to bathe you. In half an hour I will come back with +instructions." + +We obeyed, I imitating blindly every vague, mechanical movement of +Foulet's. We settled ourselves in the comfortable chairs and Fraser +left us. He had told us to relax--but to do anything else would have +been impossible. The light soothed us, eased us; gave us, somehow, a +penetrating sensation of peace and complete comfort. It flowed around +us, warming us, lulling us to a delicious dreamy state that was +neither waking nor sleeping. It wiped out danger; it wiped out Time; +nothing existed but this warm and relaxing sense of utter satisfaction +and peace. + +Through this mist of contentment came Fraser's voice, "That is all!" +The light faded gradually, and as gradually we came to ourselves. "You +will dress," directed Fraser in the same clear, clipped manner, "and +you will come to me in my laboratory." + +Fifteen minutes later we stood before him, vacant-eyed and solemn. +Fraser fastened his black, polished eyes upon us. "You will tell me," +he said distinctly, "all you know." + +We were silent. How could we tell him all we knew when we were +supposed to have forgotten everything? Was this a trap? Or did our +inside secret service information come under the general head of +Science? But before these questions had actually formed in my mind I +remembered that several times Fraser had answered my questions before +they were asked. Might he be a mind reader? Best to take no chances! I +made my conscious mind as blank as possible and gazed back at him. At +my side Foulet made a vague and uncertain noise in his throat. + +"Your countries are afraid of me?" Fraser leaned forward, that smug, +vain smile curling his lips. "Your countries know there is a power +abroad stronger than they? They feel that between the twin horns of +economic pressure and the red menace they will be tossed to +destruction? + +"Destruction?" repeated Foulet with all the vacant inflection of +idiocy. + +"Tossed?" I asked imitating Foulet. But instantly I wondered if we +were taking the right tack for Fraser's eyes grew red with fury. + + * * * * * + +"Answer me!" he raged. "Tell me that your countries know that soon I +shall be master of the world! Tell me they are afraid of me! Tell me +that in the last three years I have slowly gained control of commerce, +of gold! Tell me that they know I hold the economic systems of the +world in the hollow of my hand! Tell me that not a government on earth +but knows it is hanging on the brink of disaster! And I--I put it +there! My agents spread the propaganda of ruin! My agents crashed your +Wall Street and broke your banks! I! I! I! Mad Algy Fraser!" He +stopped, gasping for breath. His face was scarlet. His eyes glowed +like red coals. Suddenly he burst into a cascade of maniacal laughter, +high, insane, terrible. + +It took all my control to keep my eyes blank, my face devoid of +expression. Out of the tail of my eye I saw Foulet smiling, a vague, +idiotic smile of sympathy with Fraser's glee. But suddenly the glee +died--as suddenly as if a button had snapped off the current. He +leaned forward, his black eyes devouring our faces. + +"They are afraid of me?" It was a whisper, sharply eager. "The world +knows I am Master?" + +"Master," repeated Foulet. It wasn't quite a question, yet neither was +it sufficiently definite as an answer to arouse Fraser's suspicions. +To my relief it satisfied him. The congested blood drained out of his +face. His eyes lost their glare. He turned and for several minutes +tramped up and down the laboratory lost in thought. At last he came +back to us. + +"I have changed my mind," he muttered. "Come with me." + +Without a word we followed him, out through the door and down the +passageway. Out of the building he led us. The air was stirring with +the first breath of dawn and along the horizon glowed a band of pure +gold where the sun would soon rise. When he had walked some thirty +yards from the laboratory Fraser paused. With his toe he touched a +spring in the platform. A trap door instantly yawned at our feet. I +suppressed a start just in time, but through my body shot a thrill of +fear. My muscles tensed. My heart raced. What now? Where could a trap +door, two thousand feet above the earth lead? Was he going to shove us +into space because we refused to answer his questions? + +"Go down," Fraser ordered. + + * * * * * + +For the space of a breath we hesitated. To disobey meant certain and +instant death at the hands of this soulless maniac. But to obey--to +drop through this trap-door--also meant death. I took a step forward. +Could we overpower him? But what if we did? There were others here +beside Fraser. How many others I had no idea, but surely enough to +make things impossible for Foulet and me. Yet we dared not even +hesitate. To hesitate implied thinking--and a man robbed of his brain +cannot think! There was no way out. Together Foulet and I stepped to +the brink of the yawning hole.... + +For an instant we were almost blinded by a glare of rosy light that +seemed to burst upon us from the earth so far below. Here was the +source of that strange afterglow! Away beneath us, evidently on the +sands of the Arabian desert, glowed four red eyes sending forth the +rosy rays that converged at the center of the floating platform. +Instantly I comprehended Fraser's scheme. The Fleotite he had +invented, and of which the platform and buildings were made, was +lighter than air. It followed, therefore, that if it were not anchored +in some way it would instantly rise. So Fraser had anchored it with +four of his magnetic rays! He had told us that he could regulate the +pulling power of the ray, so what he had obviously done was to +calculate to a nicety the lift of the Fleotite against the magnetism +of the rays. + +But instantaneously with this thought came another. Fraser was urging +us into the glow of the magnetic ray! If once our bodies came entirely +within the ray we would be yanked from the platform and dashed to +death--sucked to destruction on the sands below. + +In my ear I heard Fraser's fiendish chuckle. "The instinct of fear +still holds, eh? My serum can destroy your conscious mind--but not +your native fear? Cowards! Fools! But I am not going to push you off. +Look!" With his foot he pressed another lever which, while it did not +shut off any of the light, seemed to deflect the ray. "Fools!" he said +again scornfully. "Go down!" + + * * * * * + +Then it was I saw where he was sending us! Thirty feet below the +platform there swung a small cabin, attached by cables and reached by +a swinging steel ladder. As I looked a door in the roof slid back. +"Climb down!" ordered Fraser again. There was nothing to do but obey. +Accustomed as I was to flying, inured as I had become to great +heights, my head reeled and my hands grew icy as I swung myself +through that trap door and felt for a footing on the swinging ladder. +Suppose Fraser turned the ray back on us as we climbed down? Suppose +he cut the ladder? But instantly my good sense told me he would do +neither. If he had meant to kill us he could have done it easier than +this. No, somewhere in his mad head, he had a reason for sending us +down to this swinging cabin. + +Five minutes later Foulet and I stared at each other in the cramped +confines of our prison. The tiny door in the roof, through which we +had dropped, was closed. The steel ladder had been pulled up. We were +alone. Alone? Were there no eyes that watched us still, or ears that +listened to what we might say? Foulet evidently shared my sense of +espionage, for, without even a glance at me, he lay down on the hard +floor of our bare little cabin and, to all intents and purposes, fell +asleep. + +For a few minutes I stood staring at him, then followed his example. +As I relaxed I realized I was tremendously weary. The cumulative +exhaustion of the past thirty-six hours seemed to crowd upon me with a +smothering sense of physical oppression. I looked at my watch and +wound it. Five o'clock. Through the narrow slits near the roof of our +swinging cell I could see the changing light of dawn, melting in with +the rosy glow from the magnetic rays. My eyelids drooped heavily.... + +When I awoke Foulet was standing near me, his arms folded across his +chest, scowling thoughtfully. He nodded as he saw my open eyes, but +when I started to speak he shook his head sharply. With his gesture +there flooded back to me the feeling that we were watched--even +through the walls of our aerial prison and the floor of the platform +above us. + + * * * * * + +I sat up and, clasping my knees with my hands, leaned against the +wall. There must be a way out of this for us! All my life I had worked +on the theory that if you thought hard enough there was a way out of +any difficulty. But this seemed so hopeless! No matter how hard we +thought the mad mind of Fraser would always be one jump ahead of us! +And maybe we didn't dare even think! If Fraser were able to read +minds--as I was nearly sure he was--then hadn't we better keep our +minds blank even down here? But an instant's thought showed me the +flaw in my logic. Fraser could, without much doubt, read minds--when +those minds were close to him. If he could read minds at a distance +then he wouldn't need to ask us for information. + +But why had he put us here? I burrowed around for the answer. Had he +guessed we had outwitted Doctor Semple and not taken the mad serum +after all, and was this punishment? No, if Fraser had guessed that he +would simply have given us more serum, as he had Brice. Brice! Where +was poor Brice now? Was he an idiot, with blank face and shiny, +soulless eyes? My mind shuddered away from the thought, taking refuge +in my first question: Why were we here? What was Fraser going to do +with us? + +We lost all track of time. In spite of my winding it my watch stopped +and the hours slipped by uncounted. Night came, and another dawn and +another night. Twice our roof was lifted and our tiny swinging cell +filled with the orange light of the nourishment ray. But we saw no one +nor did anyone speak to us. The third day passed in the same isolated +silence. Occasionally Foulet or I would utter a monosyllable; the +sound of our voices was comforting and the single words would convey +little to a listener. + +But as the hours of the third night slowly passed the atmosphere in +our tiny swinging cell grew tense. Something was going to happen. I +could feel it and I knew by Foulet's eyes that he felt it too. The air +was tight, electrical. Standing on tiptoe, I glued my eyes to the +narrow slit which was our only ventilation. But I could see nothing. +The brilliant rosy glow blinded me. I couldn't even see the huge +platform floating above our heads. + +Then, suddenly, our roof slid back. The magnetic ray was deflected. +Above us, in the opening of the trap-door, leered the bright, mad eyes +of Fraser. + +"Good evening," he said mockingly. "How do you feel?" We smiled +hesitantly. Something in his voice made me feel he was addressing us +as sane men and not idiots. But why? Weren't we supposed to be idiots +when he put us down there? + +"You ought to feel all right," Fraser went on critically. "The first +dose of that serum lasts only three days. It's cumulative," he added +with his professional air. "In the beginning an injection every three +days. Then once a week and so on. There's a man who has been with me +for three years who needs treatment only once every three months. +Well, are you ready to talk?" + + * * * * * + +So that was it! He had put us down here till the supposed effects of +that serum had worn off; and now we were to talk; tell him everything +his agents had been risking their lives to find out! We were to sell +out our countries to him; betray all the secrets we had sworn by +eternity to keep! If we did as he demanded both France and the United +States would be at his mercy--and he had no mercy! He was not a man; +he was a cruel, power-loving, scientific machine. I clamped my teeth. +Never would I talk! I had sworn to protect my country's secrets with +my life--and my vow would be kept! + +"You will talk?" Fraser asked again, his voice suddenly suave and +beseeching. "For those who talk there are--rewards." + +"Let down the ladder," said Foulet, in a quiet, conversational tone. +"It will be easier to discuss this--" + +Fraser's eyes narrowed to gleaming slits. He smiled craftily. "The +ladder will be let down--when you talk." + +"And if," suggested Foulet, "we don't wish to talk?" + +Fraser's lips stretched in a wider grin. His white teeth gleamed. His +shiny black eyes glittered. In that warm, rosy light he looked like a +demon from hell. He held out his hand. In it shone a long, slender +instrument. + +"This knife," he said softly, "Will cut the steel cables that connect +you to this platform--as if they were cheese! You will talk?" Beside +me I heard Foulet gasp. Swiftly my imagination conjured up the picture +of our fate. Our determined refusal to divulge the secrets of our +respective countries; the severing, one by one, of the four cables +holding us to the platform; the listing of our swinging cell; the +tipping, the last, terrible plunge two thousand feet. But it would be +swift. The power of the magnetic ray would give us no time to +think--to suffer. It would be a merciful end.... + +"Let us up," bargained Foulet. "We will talk." Fraser laughed. + +"None of that," he said slyly. "You talk from there and if your +information doesn't dove-tail with what I already know--" he +flourished the steel knife suggestively. + + * * * * * + +We were caught! No amount of bluff would save us now. Fraser demanded +that truth, facts, actual information--and he wouldn't be fooled by +anything spurious. Foulet's shoulder touched mine as we peered up +through the roof of our cell at our mad captor. We spoke together: + +"There is nothing to say." + +The assured smile left Fraser's lips. His eyes glittered red. His +whole mad face was contorted with fury. A volley of oaths poured +through his twisted mouth. With a gesture of insane rage he pulled the +nearest cable to him and slashed it with the knife! + +Our cell tilted. Foulet and I were thrown in a heap on the floor. We +sprang up to face Fraser again through the roof. His mad eyes glared +down at us, soul-chilling, maniacal. + +"Talk!" he snarled. "Talk--or I'll slice another!" He drew the second +cable to him, holding it in readiness. + +I clenched my teeth. Beside me I could see the muscles of Foulet's jaw +working. Talk? Never! + +"Talk!" screamed Fraser. "Talk!" Our silence and our white faces were +his only answer. There was a gleam of the knife in the rosy light. Our +cell lurched, quivered, then caught. Would it hold with only two +cables? It was hanging on its side. We were standing on what had been +the wall. Through the opening in the roof we could see nothing but +rosy light and distant stars. How strong were the cables? Could they +hold against the pull of the magnetic ray? We could feel the pull now; +feel the strain on the cables above us. If Fraser cut the third one-- + +"Talk!" his voice came, hoarse with fury. "Talk now! You can't see +me," he went on; "but I'm pulling the third cable toward me. I'm +raising the knife. Will you talk?" + +Standing on that quaking wall Foulet and I stared at each other. How +long would it be? One second? Half a minute? Thank God it would be +quick! This was the worst now. This eternity of waiting.... "I'm +cutting it!" yelled Fraser--and with his words the cell lurched, +swung, whirled like a spinning top. Foulet and I were tossed around +like dried peas in a pod. + +Suddenly the thing steadied. Two steel hooks were clamped on the edge +of the opening in what had been the roof, and Brice stared at us +through the aperture! + +"Quick!" he gasped. "There's not a second to lose. Don't stare! Quick, +I say. I've got the ladder here. It's steel and it'll hold. Climb up." + + * * * * * + +Dumbly we obeyed. Our heads were whirling, our bodies bruised and +mashed by the shaking up. Blindly, dizzily we climbed up the ladder, +scrambled out on the platform. Solid footing again! As Brice loosed +the ladder and pulled it up, there was a snap. The last cable had +gone! The cell shot down to earth with a speed that must have reduced +it 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 shot +the stuff into me, but I found an antidote in Semple's office and used +it right away. Now listen to me! Our plane is over there," he pointed +across the platform. "It's all ready to take off. They think they're +sending me off on an errand for them at dawn. It's ready for a long +trip. Go there; get in; and if any one questions you tell them it's +orders. 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 he +does--" + +"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 the +plane 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 to +explain--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 dim +shadow of which we could see across the platform. + +We took a step toward it, and then turned back. How could we go +without Brice? But he had vanished. And in the shadow of the trap door +Fraser groaned. + +We waited no longer. To hesitate was to court death. Deliberately, as +if we were acting under orders, we walked toward the plane. As Brice +had said, it was in readiness. Evidently he was to have started at +once. We climbed in, our hearts in our throats. A mechanic stepped +forward. The propeller roared. But, above the roar of the propeller we +heard a yell of fury--and Fraser, dazed and reeling, came stumbling +across 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 that +I realized the complete idiocy of our forlorn hope of escape. What +fools we were! And Brice--Brice must, in truth, be mad! How could we +get away? How could we ever escape the terrific power of the magnetic +ray? That ray that Fraser worked himself from his laboratory--the ray +that had drawn us first across the desert to this floating island of +madness! It would be a matter of seconds before Fraser would reach it +and turn it on us. There was no escape--none! + +In despair I looked back at the platform. To eyes ignorant of its +horror it would have been an amazing and gorgeous sight. The crimson +lamps of the magnetic ray bloomed like huge desert flowers on the sand +two thousand feet below us; the rays flamed up with the glory of an +Italian sunset and, poised in space like a dark butterfly, floated the +huge platform bathed in its rosy light. It was beautiful. It was +unbelievable. It was horrible. I gazed, fascinated. When would Fraser +reach the lamp? When would he turn it on? I stared at the dark shadow +that I knew was the laboratory building. My eyes strained through the +growing distance. When would the glow come? That glow that meant our +death! + +Suddenly I gasped. The light had gone! The great lamps down on the +desert floor were out! Darkness, swift, comforting, wrapped us in +velvet folds. + +"Brice!" I yelled. "Brice has cut off the lamps--he's released the +platform. God! Look--Foulet!" My voice tore through my throat; my eyes +burned with sudden, blinding emotion. In the soft darkness of the +starry night I could see the platform waver, topple, rise! It rose +straight up, tilting and swaying in the light breeze. What was it +Fraser 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? I +strained my eyes through the darkness. Already Foulet had banked the +plane--we were circling; turning back. A tiny white speck took shape +beneath the rising island. A parachute! Brice was safe! + + * * * * * + +Ten minutes later we slid along the hard desert sand and came to a +stop. Brice came running over toward us. Foulet and I climbed out of +the plane to meet him. Silently we gripped hands. It was a solemn +moment. Beside us reared the great plane that would take us back to +safety--back to the familiar life we knew and loved. Around us +stretched the trackless wastes of the Great Arabian Desert--and above, +somewhere between us and the stars, soared the floating island of +madness. + +"They believed I was mad," said Brice as we climbed back into the +plane. "I watched Fraser. I spied on the men. There were about thirty +up there, and finally I saw where they regulated those lamps. The rest +was easy--all except the minute when I found Fraser kneeling beside +that trap-door slicing the cables. For a second I thought it was all +up." + +"You got us just in time," I muttered. But you can't be grateful with +an Englishman. They won't stand for it. + +"Oh, bosh," Brice murmured, as the plane swung its nose toward that +far distance that was home. "Well, it's all over--but it's a story +that can never be told. The fate of Mad Fraser will have to remain a +mystery--for no one would believe us if we told them!" + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Floating Island of Madness, by Jason Kirby + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOATING ISLAND OF MADNESS *** + +***** This file should be named 29421.txt or 29421.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/2/29421/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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