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+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: 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
+
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