Lost In Space

: The Skylark Of Space

For forty-eight hours the uncontrolled atomic motor dragged the

masterless vessel with its four unconscious passengers through the

illimitable reaches of empty space, with an awful and constantly

increasing velocity. When only a few traces of copper remained in the

power-plant, the acceleration began to decrease and the powerful springs

began to restore the floor and the seats to their normal positions. The

last partic e of copper having been transformed into energy, the speed

of the vessel became constant. Apparently motionless to those inside it,

it was in reality traversing space with a velocity thousands of times

greater than that of light. As the force which had been holding them

down was relaxed, the lungs, which had been able to secure only air

enough to maintain faint sparks of life, began to function more normally

and soon all four recovered consciousness, drinking in the life-giving

oxygen in a rapid succession of breaths so deep that it seemed as though

their lungs must burst with each inhalation.



DuQuesne was the first to gain control of himself. His first effort to

rise to his feet lifted him from the floor, and he floated lightly to

the ceiling, striking it with a gentle bump and remaining suspended in

the air. The others, who had not yet attempted to move, stared at him in

wide-eyed amazement. Reaching out and clutching one of the supporting

columns, he drew himself back to the floor and cautiously removed his

leather suit, transferring two heavy automatic pistols as he did so. By

gingerly feeling of his injured body, he discovered that no bones were

broken, although he was terribly bruised. He then glanced around to

learn how his companions were faring. He saw that they were all sitting

up, the girls resting, Perkins removing his aviator's costume.



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

friend?"



DuQuesne smiled.



"Good morning, Miss Vaneman. Several things happened. He fell into the

controls, turning on all the juice. We left shortly afterward. I tried

to shut the power off, and in doing so I balled things up worse than

ever. Then I went to sleep, and just woke up."



"Have you any idea where we are?"



"No, but I can make a fair estimate, I think," and glancing at the empty

chamber in which the bar had been, he took out his notebook and pen and

figured for a few minutes. As he finished, he drew himself along by a

handrail to one of the windows, then to another. He returned with a

puzzled expression on his face and made a long calculation.



"I don't know exactly what to make of this," he said thoughtfully. "We

are so far away from the earth that even the fixed stars are

unrecognizable. The power was on exactly forty-eight hours, since that

is the life of that particular bar under full current. We should still

be close to our own solar system, since it is theoretically impossible

to develop any velocity greater than that of light. But in fact, we

have. I know enough about astronomy to recognize the fixed stars from

any point within a light-year or so of the sun, and I can't see a single

familiar star. I never could see how mass could be a function of

velocity, and now I am convinced that it is not. We have been

accelerating for forty-eight hours!"



He turned to Dorothy.



"While we were unconscious, Miss Vaneman, we had probably attained a

velocity of something like seven billion four hundred thirteen million

miles per second, and that is the approximate speed at which we are now

traveling. We must be nearly six quadrillion miles, and that is a space

of several hundred light-years--away from our solar system, or, more

plainly, about six times as far away from our earth as the North Star

is. We couldn't see our sun with a telescope, even if we knew which way

to look for it."



* * * * *



At this paralyzing news, Dorothy's face turned white and Margaret

Spencer quietly fainted in her seat.



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



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

decency disappeared completely.



"You got us into this whole thing!" he screamed as he leaped at Dorothy

with murderous fury gleaming in his pale eyes and his fingers curved

into talons. Instead of reaching her, however, he merely sprawled

grotesquely in midair, and DuQuesne knocked him clear across the vessel

with one powerful blow of his fist.



"Get back there, you cowardly cur," he said evenly. "Even though we are

a long way from home, try to remember you're a man, at least. One more

break like that and I'll throw you out of the boat. It isn't her fault

that we are out here, but our own. The blame for it is a very small

matter, anyway; the thing of importance is to get back as soon as

possible."



"But how can we get back?" asked Perkins sullenly from the corner where

he was crouching, fear in every feature. "The power is gone, the

controls are wrecked, and we are hopelessly lost in space."



"Oh, I wouldn't say 'hopelessly,'" returned the other, "I have never

been in any situation yet that I couldn't get out of, and I won't be

convinced until I am dead that I can't get out of this one. We have two

extra power bars, we can fix the board, and if I can't navigate us back

close enough to our solar system to find it, I am more of a dub than I

think I am. How about a little bite to eat?"



"Show us where it is!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Now that you mention it, I

find that I am starved to death."



DuQuesne looked at her keenly.



"I admire your nerve, Miss Vaneman. I didn't suppose that that animal

over there would show such a wide streak of yellow, but I was rather

afraid that you girls might go to pieces."



"I'm scared blue, of course," Dorothy admitted frankly, "but hysterics

won't do any good, and we simply must get back."



"Certainly, we must and we will," stated DuQuesne calmly. "If you like,

you might find something for us to eat in the galley there, while I see

what I can do with this board that I wrecked with my head. By the way,

that cubby-hole there is the apartment reserved for you two ladies. We

are in rather cramped quarters, but I think you will find everything you

need."



As Dorothy drew herself along the handrail toward the room designated,

accompanied by the other girl who, though conscious, had paid little

attention to anything around her, she could not help feeling a thrill of

admiration for the splendid villain who had abducted her. Calm and cool,

always master of himself, apparently paying no attention to the terrible

bruises which disfigured half his face and doubtless half his body as

well, she admitted to herself that it was only his example, which had

enabled her to maintain her self-control in their present plight. As she

crawled over Perkins' discarded suit, she remembered that he had not

taken any weapons from it. After a rapid glance around to assure herself

that she was not being watched, she quickly searched the coat, bringing

to light not one, but two pistols, which she thrust into her pocket. She

saw with relief that they were regulation army automatics, with whose

use she was familiar from much target practise with Seaton.



In the room, which was a miniature of the one she had seen on the

Skylark, the girls found clothing, toilet articles, and everything

necessary for a long trip. As they were setting themselves to rights,

Dorothy electing to stay in her riding suit, they surveyed each other

frankly and each was reassured by what she saw. Dorothy saw a girl of

twenty-two, of her own stature, with a mass of heavy, wavy black hair.

Her eyes, a singularly rich and deep brown, contrasted strangely with

the beautiful ivory of her skin. She was normally a beautiful girl,

thought Dorothy, but her beauty was marred by suffering and privation.

Her naturally slender form was thin, her face was haggard and worn. The

stranger broke the silence.



* * * * *



"I'm Margaret Spencer," she began abruptly, "former secretary to His

Royal Highness, Brookings of Steel. They swindled my father out of an

invention worth millions and he died, broken-hearted. I got the job to

see if I couldn't get enough evidence to convict them, and I had quite a

lot when they caught me. I had some things that they were afraid to

lose, and I had them so well hidden that they couldn't find them, so

they kidnapped me to make me give them back. They haven't dared kill me

so far for fear the evidence will show up after my death--which it will.

However, I will be legally dead before long, and then they know the

whole thing will come out, so they have brought me out here to make me

talk or kill me. Talking won't do me any good now, though, and I don't

believe it ever would have. They would have killed me after they got the

stuff back, anyway. So you see I, at least, will never get back to the

earth alive."



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



"No, we won't. You don't know that man Perkins--if that is his name. I

never heard him called any real name before. He is simply

unspeakable--vile--hideous--everything that is base. He was my jailer,

and I utterly loathe and despise him. He is mean and underhanded and

tricky--he reminds me of a slimy, poisonous snake. He will kill me: I

know it."



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

wouldn't let him."



"I've never met him before, but from what I heard of him in the office,

he's even worse than Perkins, but in an entirely different way. There's

nothing small or mean about him, and I don't believe he would go out of

his way to hurt anyone, as Perkins would. But he is absolutely cold and

hard, a perfect fiend. Where his interests are concerned, there's

nothing under the sun, good or bad, that he won't do. But I'm glad that

Perkins had me instead of 'The Doctor,' as they call him. Perkins raises

such a bitter personal feeling, that anybody would rather die than give

up to him in anything. DuQuesne, however, would have tortured me

impersonally and scientifically--cold and self-contained all the while

and using the most efficient methods, and I am sure he would have got it

out of me some way. He always gets what he goes after."



"Oh, come, Miss Spencer!" Dorothy interrupted the half-hysterical girl.

"You're too hard on him. Didn't you see him knock Perkins down when he

came after me?"



"Well, maybe he has a few gentlemanly instincts, which he uses when he

doesn't lose anything by it. More likely he merely intended to rebuke

him for a useless action. He is a firm Pragmatist--anything that is

useful is all right, anything that is useless is a crime. More probably

yet, he wants you left alive. Of course that is his real reason. He went

to the trouble of kidnapping you, so naturally he won't let Perkins or

anybody else kill you until he is through with you. Otherwise he would

have let Perkins do anything he wanted to with you, without lifting a

finger."



"I can't quite believe that," Dorothy replied, though a cold chill

struck at her heart as she remembered the inhuman crime attributed to

this man, and she quailed at the thought of being in his charge,

countless millions of miles from earth, a thought only partly

counteracted by the fact that she was now armed. "He has treated us with

every consideration so far, let's hope for the best. Anyway, I'm sure

that we'll get back safely."



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



"No--or yes, in a way I have, though nothing very definite. I'm Dorothy

Vaneman, and I am engaged to the man who discovered the thing that makes

this space-car go...."



"That's why they kidnapped you, then--to make him give up all his rights

to it. It's like them."



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

Seaton will find me, I know. I feel it."



"But that's exactly what they want!" cried Margaret excitedly. "In my

spying around I heard a little about this very thing--the name Seaton

brings it to my mind. His car is broken in some way, so that it will

kill him the first time he tries to run it."



"That's where they underestimated Dick and his partner. You have heard

of Martin Crane, of course?"



"I think I heard his name mentioned in the office, together with

Seaton's, but that's all."



"Well, besides other things, Martin is quite a wonderful mechanic, and

he found out that our Skylark was spoiled. So they built another one, a

lot bigger, and I am sure that they are following us, right now."



"But how can they possibly follow us, when we are going so fast and are

so far away?" queried the other girl, once more despondent.



"I don't quite know, but I do know that Dick will find a way. He's

simply wonderful. He knows more now than that Doctor DuQuesne will ever

learn in all his life, and he will find us in a few days. I feel it in

my bones. Besides, I picked Perkins' pockets of these two pistols. Can

you shoot an automatic?"



"Yes," replied the other girl, as she seized one of the guns, assured

herself that its magazine was full, and slipped it into her pocket. "I

used to practise a lot with my father's. This makes me feel a whole lot

better. And call me Peggy, won't you? It will seem good to hear my name

again. After what I've been through lately, even this trip will be a

vacation for me."



"Well, then, cheer up, Peggy dear, we're going to be great friends.

Let's go get us all something to eat. I'm simply starved, and I know you

are, too."



* * * * *



The presence of the pistol in her pocket and Dorothy's unwavering faith

in her lover, lifted the stranger out of the mood of despair into which

the long imprisonment, the brutal treatment, and the present situation

had plunged her, and she was almost cheerful as they drew themselves

along the hand-rail leading to the tiny galley.



"I simply can't get used to the idea of nothing having any weight--look

here!" laughed Dorothy, as she took a boiled ham out of the refrigerator

and hung it upon an imaginary hook in the air, where it remained

motionless. "Doesn't it make you feel funny?"



"It is a queer sensation. I feel light, like a toy balloon, and I feel

awfully weird inside. If we have no weight, why does it hurt so when we

bump into anything? And when you throw anything, like the Doctor did

Perkins, why does it hit as hard as ever?"



"It's mass or inertia or something like that. A thing has it everywhere,

whether it weighs anything or not. Dick explained it all to me. I

understood it when he told me about it, but I'm afraid it didn't sink in

very deep. Did you ever study physics?"



"I had a year of it in college, but it was more or less of a joke. I

went to a girls' school, and all we had to do in physics was to get the

credit; we didn't have to learn it."



"Me too. Next time I go to school I'm going to Yale or Harvard or some

such place, and I'll learn so much mathematics and science that I'll

have to wear a bandeau to keep my massive intellect in place."



During this conversation they had prepared a substantial luncheon and

had arranged it daintily upon two large trays, in spite of the

difficulty caused by the fact that nothing would remain in place by its

own weight. The feast prepared, Dorothy took her tray from the table as

carefully as she could, and saw the sandwiches and bottles start to

float toward the ceiling. Hastily inverting the tray above the escaping

viands, she pushed them back down upon the table. In doing so she lifted

herself clear from the floor, as she had forgotten to hold herself down.



"What'll we do, anyway?" she wailed when she had recovered her position.

"Everything wants to fly all over the place!"



"Put another tray on top of it and hold them together," suggested

Margaret. "I wish we had a birdcage. Then we could open the door and

grab a sandwich as it flies out."



By covering the trays the girls finally carried the luncheon out into

the main compartment, where they gave DuQuesne and Perkins one of the

trays and all fell to eating hungrily. DuQuesne paused with a glint of

amusement in his one sound eye as he saw Dorothy trying to pour ginger

ale out of a bottle.



"It can't be done, Miss Vaneman. You'll have to drink it through a

straw. That will work, since our air pressure is normal. Be careful not

to choke on it, though; your swallowing will have to be all muscular out

here. Gravity won't help you. Or wait a bit--I have the control board

fixed and it will be a matter of only a few minutes to put in another

bar and get enough acceleration to take the place of gravity."



He placed one of the extra power bars in the chamber and pushed the

speed lever into the first notch, and there was a lurch of the whole

vessel as it swung around the bar so that the floor was once more

perpendicular to it. He took a couple of steps, returned, and advanced

the lever another notch.



"There that's about the same as gravity. Now we can act like human

beings and eat in comfort."



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

toward the earth?"



"Not yet. I reversed the bar, but we will have to use up all of this one

before we can even start back. Until this bar is gone we will merely be

slowing down."



* * * * *



As the meal progressed, Dorothy noticed that DuQuesne's left arm seemed

almost helpless, and that he ate with great difficulty because of his

terribly bruised face. As soon as they had removed the trays she went

into her room, where she had seen a small medicine chest, and brought

out a couple of bottles.



"Lie down here, Doctor DuQuesne," she commanded. "I'm going to apply a

little first-aid to the injured. Arnica and iodine are all I can find,

but they'll help a little."



"I'm all right," began the scientist, but at her imperious gesture he

submitted, and she bathed his battered features with the healing lotion

and painted the worst bruises with iodine.



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



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

out."



He opened his shirt at the throat and bared his shoulder, and Dorothy

gasped--as much at the size and power of the muscles displayed, as at

the extent and severity of the man's injuries. Stepping into the

gallery, she brought out hot water and towels and gently bathed away the

clotted blood that had been forced through the skin.



"Massage it a little with the arnica as I move the arm," he directed

coolly, and she did so, pityingly. He did not wince and made no sign of

pain, but she saw beads of perspiration appear upon his face, and

wondered at his fortitude.



"That's fine," he said gratefully as she finished, and a peculiar

expression came over his face. "It feels one hundred per cent better

already. But why do you do it? I should think you would feel like

crowning me with that basin instead of playing nurse."



"Efficiency," she replied with a smile. "I'm taking a leaf out of your

own book. You are our chief engineer, you know, and it won't do to have

you laid up."



"That's a logical explanation, but it doesn't go far enough," he

rejoined, still studying her intently. She did not reply, but turned to

Perkins.



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



"No," growled Perkins from the seat in which he had crouched immediately

after eating. "Keep away from me, or I'll cut your heart out!"



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



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



"I said I would throw you out if you made another break," DuQuesne

informed him evenly, "and I meant it. If you can't talk decently, keep

still. Understand that you are to keep off Miss Vaneman, words and

actions. I am in charge of her, and I will put up with no interference

whatever. This is your last warning."



"How about Spencer, then?"



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

with a shrug.



An evil light appeared in Perkins' eyes and he took out a wicked-looking

knife and began to strop it carefully upon the leather of the seat,

glaring at his victim the while.



"Well, I have something to say...." blazed Dorothy, but she was

silenced by a gesture from Margaret, who calmly took the pistol from her

pocket, jerked the slide back, throwing a cartridge into the chamber,

and held the weapon up on one finger, admiring it from all sides.



* * * * *



"Don't worry about his knife. He has been sharpening it for my benefit

for the last month. He doesn't mean anything by it."



At this unexpected show of resistance, Perkins stared at her for an

instant, then glanced at his coat.



"Yes, this was yours, once. You needn't bother about picking up your

coat, they're both gone. You might be tempted to throw that knife, so

drop it on the floor and kick it over to me before I count three.



"One." The heavy pistol steadied into line with his chest and her finger

tightened on the trigger.



"Two." He obeyed and she picked up the knife. He turned to DuQuesne, who

had watched the scene unmoved, a faint smile upon his saturnine face.



"Doctor!" he cried, shaking with fear. "Why don't you shoot her or take

that gun away from her? Surely you don't want to see me murdered?"



"Why not?" replied DuQuesne calmly. "It is nothing to me whether she

kills you or you kill her. You brought it on yourself by your own



carelessness. Any man with brains doesn't leave guns lying around within

reach of prisoners, and a blind man could have seen Miss Vaneman getting

your hardware."



"You saw her take them and didn't warn me?" croaked Perkins.



"Why should I warn you? If you can't take care of your own prisoner she

earns her liberty, as far as I am concerned. I never did like your

style, Perkins, especially your methods of handling--or rather

mishandling--women. You could have made her give up the stuff she

recovered from that ass Brookings inside of an hour, and wouldn't have

had to kill her afterward, either."



"How?" sneered the other. "If you are so good at that kind of thing, why

didn't you try it on Seaton and Crane?"



"There are seven different methods to use on a woman like Miss Spencer,

each of which will produce the desired result. The reason I did not try

them on either Seaton or Crane is that they would have failed. Your

method of indirect action is probably the only one that will succeed.

That is why I adopted it."



"Well, what are you going to do about it?" shrieked Perkins. "Are you

going to sit there and lecture all day?"



"I am going to do nothing whatever," answered the scientist coldly. "If

you had any brains you would see that you are in no danger. Miss Spencer

will undoubtedly kill you if you attack her--not otherwise. That is an

Anglo-Saxon weakness."



"Did you see me take the pistols?" queried Dorothy.



"Certainly. I'm not blind. You have one of them in your right coat

pocket now."



"Then why didn't you, or don't you, try to take it away from me?" she

asked in wonder.



"If I had objected to your having them, you would never have got them.

If I didn't want you to have a gun now, I would take it away from you.

You know that, don't you?" and his black eyes stared into her violet

ones with such calm certainty of his ability that she felt her heart

sink.



"Yes," she admitted finally, "I believe you could--that is, unless I

were angry enough to shoot you."



"That wouldn't help you. I can shoot faster and straighter than you can,

and would shoot it out of your hand. However, I have no objection to

your having the gun, since it is no part of my plan to offer you any

further indignity of any kind. Even if you had the necessary coldness of

nerve or cruelty of disposition--of which I have one, Perkins the other,

and you neither--you wouldn't shoot me now, because you can't get back

to the earth without me. After we get back I will take the guns away

from both of you if I think it desirable. In the meantime, play with

them all you please."



"Has Perkins any more knives or guns or things in his room?" demanded

Dorothy.



"How should I know?" indifferently; then, as both girls started for

Perkins' room he ordered brusquely:



"Sit down, Miss Vaneman. Let them fight it out. Perkins has his orders

to lay off you--you lay off him. I'm not taking any chances of getting

you hurt, that's one reason I wanted you armed. If he gets gay, shoot

him; otherwise, hands off completely."



Dorothy threw up her head in defiance, but meeting his cold stare she

paused irresolutely and finally sat down, biting her lips in anger,

while the other girl went on.



"That's better. She doesn't need any help to whip that yellow dog. He's

whipped already. He never would think of fighting unless the odds were

three to one in his favor."



* * * * *



When Margaret had returned from a fruitless search of Perkins' room and

had assured herself that he had no more weapons concealed about his

person, she thrust the pistol back into her pocket and sat down.



"That ends that," she declared. "I guess you will be good now, won't

you, Mr. Perkins?"



"Yes," that worthy muttered. "I have to be, now that you've got the drop

on me and DuQuesne's gone back on me. But wait until we get back! I'll

get you then, you...."



"Stop right there!" sharply. "There's nothing I would rather do than

shoot you right now, if you give me the slightest excuse, such as that

name you were about to call me. Now go ahead!"



DuQuesne broke the silence that followed.



"Well, now that the battle is over, and since we are fed and rested, I

suggest that we slow down a bit and get ready to start back. Pick out

comfortable seats, everybody, and I'll shoot a little more juice through

that bar."



Seating himself before the instrument board, he advanced the speed lever

slowly until nearly three-quarters of the full power was on, as much as

he thought the others could stand.



For sixty hours he drove the car, reducing the acceleration only at

intervals during which they ate and walked about their narrow quarters

in order to restore the blood to circulation in their suffering bodies.

The power was not reduced for sleep; everyone slept as best he could.



Dorothy and Margaret talked together at every opportunity, and a real

intimacy grew up between them. Perkins was for the most part sullenly

quiet, knowing himself despised by all the others and having no outlet

here for his particular brand of cleverness. DuQuesne was always

occupied with his work and only occasionally addressed a remark to one

or another of the party, except during meals. At those periods of

general recuperation, he talked easily and well upon many topics. There

was no animosity in his bearing nor did he seem to perceive any directed

toward himself, but when any of the others ventured to infringe upon his

ideas of how discipline should be maintained, DuQuesne's reproof was

merciless. Dorothy almost liked him, but Margaret insisted that she

considered him worse than ever.



When the bar was exhausted, DuQuesne lifted the sole remaining cylinder

into place.



"We should be nearly stationary with respect to the earth," he remarked.

"Now we will start back."



"Why, it felt as though we were picking up speed for the last three

days!" exclaimed Margaret.



"Yes, it feels that way because we have nothing to judge by. Slowing

down in one direction feels exactly like starting up in the opposite

one. There is no means of knowing whether we are standing still, going

away from the earth, or going toward it, since we have nothing

stationary upon which to make observations. However, since the two bars

were of exactly the same size and were exerted in opposite directions

except for a few minutes after we left the earth, we are nearly

stationary now. I will put on power until this bar is something less

than half gone, then coast for three or four days. By the end of that

time we should be able to recognize our solar system from the appearance

of the fixed stars."



He again advanced the lever, and for many hours silence filled the car

as it hurtled through space. DuQuesne, waking up from a long nap, saw

that the bar no longer pointed directly toward the top of the ship,

perpendicular to the floor, but was inclined at a sharp angle. He

reduced the current, and felt the lurch of the car as it swung around

the bar, increasing the angle many degrees. He measured the angle

carefully and peered out of all the windows on one side of the car.

Returning to the bar after a time, he again measured the angle, and

found that it had increased greatly.



"What's the matter, Doctor DuQuesne?" asked Dorothy, who had also been

asleep.



"We are being deflected from our course. You see the bar doesn't point

straight up any more? Of course the direction of the bar hasn't changed,

the car has swung around it."



"What does that mean?"



"We have come close enough to some star so that its attraction swings

the bottom of the car around. Normally, you know, the bottom of the car

follows directly behind the bar. It doesn't mean much yet except that we

are being drawn away from our straight line, but if the attraction gets

much stronger it may make us miss our solar system completely. I have

been looking for the star in question, but can't see it yet. We'll

probably pull away from it very shortly."



* * * * *



He threw on the power, and for some time watched the bar anxiously,

expecting to see it swing back into the vertical, but the angle

continually increased. He again reduced the current and searched the

heavens for the troublesome body.



"Do you see it yet?" asked Dorothy with concern.



"No, there's apparently nothing near enough to account for all this

deflection."



He took out a pair of large night-glasses and peered through them for

several minutes.



"Good God! It's a dead sun, and we're nearly onto it! It looks as large

as our moon!"



Springing to the board, he whirled the bar into the vertical. He took

down a strange instrument, went to the bottom window, and measured the

apparent size of the dark star. Then, after cautioning the rest of the

party to sit tight, he advanced the lever farther than it had been

before. After half an hour he again slackened the pace and made another

observation, finding to his astonishment that the dark mass had almost

doubled its apparent size! Dorothy, noting his expression, was about to

speak, but he forestalled her.



"We lost ground, instead of gaining, that spurt," he remarked, as he

hastened to his post. "It must be inconceivably large, to exert such an

enormous attractive force at this distance. We'll have to put on full

power. Hang onto yourselves as best you can."



He then pushed the lever out to its last notch and left it there until

the bar was nearly gone, only to find that the faint disk of the monster

globe was even larger than before, being now visible to the unaided eye.

Revived, the three others saw it plainly--a great dim circle, visible as

is the dark portion of the new moon--and, the power shut off, they felt

themselves falling toward it with sickening speed. Perkins screamed with

mad fear and flung himself grovelling upon the floor. Margaret, her

nerves still unstrung, clutched at her heart with both hands. Dorothy,

though her eyes looked like great black holes in her white face, looked

DuQuesne in the eye steadily.



"This is the end, then?"



"Not yet," he replied in a calm and level voice. "The end will not come

for a good many hours, as I have calculated that it will take at least

two days, probably more, to fall the distance we have to go. We have all

that time in which to think out a way of escape."



"Won't the outer repulsive shell keep up from striking it, or at least

break the force of our fall?"



"No. It was designed only as protection from meteorites and other small

bodies. It is heavy enough to swing us away from a small planet, but it

will be used up long before we strike."



He lighted a cigarette and sat at case, as though in his own study, his

brow wrinkled in thought as he made calculations in his notebook.

Finally he rose to his feet.



"There's only one chance that I can see. That is to gather up every

scrap of copper we have and try to pull ourselves far enough out of line

so that we will take an hyperbolic orbit around that body instead of

falling into it."



"What good will that do us?" asked Margaret, striving for self-control.

"We will starve to death finally, won't we?"



"Not necessarily. That will give us time to figure out something else."



"You won't have to figure out anything else, Doctor," stated Dorothy

positively. "If we miss that moon, Dick and Martin will find us before

very long."



"Not in this life. If they tried to follow us, they're both dead before

now."



"That's where even you are wrong!" she flashed at him. "They knew you

were wrecking our machine, so they built another one, a good one. And

they know a lot of things about this new metal that you have never

dreamed of, since they were not in the plans you stole."



* * * * *



DuQuesne went directly to the heart of the matter, paying no attention

to her barbed shafts.



"Can they follow us through space without seeing us?" he demanded.



"Yes--or at least, I think they can."



"How do they do it?"



"I don't know--I wouldn't tell you if I did."



"You'll tell if you know," he declared, his voice cutting like a knife.

"But that can wait until after we get out of this. The thing to do now

is to dodge that world."



He searched the vessel for copper, ruthlessly tearing out almost

everything that contained the metal, hammering it flat and throwing it

into the power-plant. He set the bar at right angles to the line of

their fall and turned on the current. When the metal was exhausted, he

made another series of observations upon the body toward which they were

falling, and reported quietly:



"We made a lot of distance, but not enough. Everything goes in, this

time."



He tore out the single remaining light-wire, leaving the car in darkness

save for the diffused light of his electric torch, and broke up the only

remaining motor. He then took his almost priceless Swiss watch, his

heavy signet ring, his scarf pin, and the cartridges from his pistol,

and added them to the collection. Flashing his lamp upon Perkins, he

relieved him of everything he had which contained copper.



"I think I have a few pennies in my pocketbook," suggested Dorothy.



"Get 'em," he directed briefly, and while she was gone he searched

Margaret, without result save for the cartridges in her pistol, as she

had no jewelry remaining after her imprisonment. Dorothy returned and

handed him everything she had found.



"I would like to keep this ring," she said slowly, pointing to a slender

circlet of gold set with a solitaire diamond, "if you think there is any

chance of us getting clear."



"Everything goes that has any copper in it," he said coldly, "and I am

glad to see that Seaton is too good a chemist to buy any platinum

jewelry. You may keep the diamond, though," as he wrenched the jewel out

of its setting and returned it to her.



He threw all the metal into the central chamber and the vessel gave a

tremendous lurch as the power was again applied. It was soon spent,

however, and after the final observation, the others waiting in

breathless suspense for him to finish his calculations, he made his curt

announcement.



"Not enough."



Perkins, his mind weakened by the strain of the last few days, went

completely insane at the words. With a wild howl he threw himself at the

unmoved scientist, who struck him with the butt of his pistol as he

leaped, the mighty force of DuQuesne's blow crushing his skull like an

eggshell and throwing him backward to the opposite side of the vessel.

Margaret lay in her seat in a dead faint. Dorothy and DuQuesne looked at

each other in the feeble light of the torch. To the girl's amazement,

the man was as calm as though he were safe in his own house, and she

made a determined effort to hold herself together.



"What next, Doctor DuQuesne?"



"I don't know. We have a couple of days yet, at least. I'll have to

study awhile."



"In that time Dick will find us, I know."



"Even if they do find us in time, which I doubt, what good will it do?

It simply means that they will go with us instead of saving us, for of

course they can't pull away, since we couldn't. I hope they don't find

us, but locate this star in time to keep away from it."



"Why?" she gasped. "You have been planning to kill both of them! I

should think you would be delighted to take them with us?"



"Far from it. Please try to be logical. I intended to remove them

because they stood in the way of my developing this new metal. If I am

to be out of the way--and frankly, I see very little chance of getting

out of this--I hope that Seaton goes ahead with it. It is the greatest

discovery the world has ever known, and if both Seaton and I, the only

two men in the world who know how to handle it, drop out, it will be

lost for perhaps hundreds of years."



"If Dick's finding us means that he must go, too, of course I hope that

he won't find us, but I don't believe that. I simply know that he could

get us away from here."



She continued more slowly, almost speaking to herself, her heart sinking

with her voice:



"He is following us, and he won't stop even if he does see this dead

star and knows that he can't get away. We will die together."



"There's no denying the fact that our situation is critical, but you

know a man isn't dead until after his heart stops beating. We have two

whole days yet, and in that time, I can probably dope out some way of

getting away from here."



"I hope so," she replied, keeping her voice from breaking only by a

great effort. "But go ahead with your doping. I'm worn out." She drew

herself down upon one of the seats and stared at the ceiling, fighting

to restrain an almost overpowering impulse to scream.



Thus the hours wore by--Perkins dead; Margaret still unconscious;

Dorothy lying in her seat, her thoughts a formless prayer, buoyed up

only by her faith in God and in her lover; DuQuesne self-possessed,

smoking innumerable cigarettes, his keen mind grappling with its most

desperate problem, grimly fighting until the very last instant of

life--while the powerless space-car fell with an appalling velocity,

faster and faster; falling toward that cold and desolate monster of the

heaven.