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The check was for two thousand, not one, the pilot saw when he received it.
"Thank you very much, sir!" he said, saluting.
"Don't mention it. Good night—and good luck to you!"
he pilot returned to his plane, it lifted from the lawn, droned off into the twilight.
Then they approached the cool white villa that stood invitingly a hundred[273] yards or so away beyond sunken gardens.
As they neared it, a handsome, well-preserved woman whose face reflected Marjorie's own beauty came toward them. Lines of suffering were still evident around her sensitive mouth, but her dark eyes were radiant.
"Mother!"
"My poor darling!"
They rushed into each other's arms, clung, sobbing and laughing.
Kendrick was glad when these intimate greetings were over and he had met Mrs. Blake.
They were in the drawing-room now, listening to a somewhat more lucid account of their daughter's experiences and those of her rescuer. Marjorie was doing most of the talking, but every now and again she would turn to Kendrick for verification.
"Heavens!" gasped Mrs. Blake, finally. "Can such things be possible?"
"Almost anything seems possible nowadays, my dear," her husband told her. "And you say, Professor, that you have brought back samples of this invisibility device?"
"Yes, we have, but I can't promise they'll work. I'll try, however."
Whereupon, sceptically, he pressed that little square button—and instantly faded out of sight.
"Good Lord!" cried Blake, leaping to his feet. "That proves it! Why, this is positively—"
is remarks were cut short by a scream of terror from his wife.
"Marjorie—Marjorie!" she shrieked.
Wheeling, he faced the chair where his daughter had sat. It was empty, so far as human eyes could see.
"Don't worry Mother—Daddy!" came a calm voice from it. "I'm quite all right—coming back—steady."
And back she came, as did Kendrick, from the empty chair beside her.
His face was grave. The success of the demonstration, which had proved their story to practical-minded Henderson Blake, had proved to him something altogether more significant. The disc, as he had surmised, had rushed eastward immediately on learning of their escape, and was now probably hovering right over New York.
"Marvelous—marvelous!" declared Blake. "But that heat ray, Professor. That sounds bad. You are convinced it is as powerful as they make out!"
"Positively! That blast they let go in the desert would have utterly destroyed New York."
"Hm! Yes, no doubt you're right. I fully realize how the fearful menace of this thing. Do you think the military authorities will be able to cope with it?"
"I don't know. Perhaps, if they are prompt enough."
"And is there no other way—no scientific way?"
endrick grew thoughtful.
"I wonder," he said at last. "There's just a possibility—something running through my mind—an experiment I'd like to make, if I had the facilities of some large electrical laboratory."
"You shall have them to-morrow!" Blake promised. "I'm one of the directors of Consolidated Electric. Their experimental laboratory in Brooklyn is the finest of its kind in America. I'll see that you have the run of it."
"That will be very kind," said Kendrick. "But don't expect anything to come from it, necessarily. It's just a theory I want to work out."
A butler entered at this moment and announced dinner.
"Well, theories are mighty these days!" beamed Blake, as they rose, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "You go ahead with your theories—and I'll bring a few facts to bear. To-morrow noon I'll escore some military men and others of my friends over to the laboratory to hear and see something of this menace direct. Meanwhile, and during this crisis, it will honor me to have you as my guest."[274]
"Our guest!" amended Marjorie, with a warm smile.
ext morning Blake motored Kendrick out to the Brooklyn Laboratory of the Consolidated Electric Utilities Corporation and installed him there.
Then he left—to return at noon with the promised delegation of generals, admirals, statesmen and financiers.
They were all frankly sceptical, though realizing that Henderson Blake was not a man given to exaggeration. Nor did their scepticism altogether vanish when Kendrick had ended his bizarre story with a demonstration of the invisibility device.
Murmurs of amazement ran around the laboratory, it is true, but the more hard-headed of his spectators charged him with having invented the apparatus himself. Though they didn't come right out and say so, they seemed to imply that he was seeking publicity.
Annoyedly, Kendrick tried to refute their charges. But even as he was summoning words, refutation utter and complete came from the air.
A low, humming vibration sounded, grew in volume till it filled the room—and as suddenly ceased: The light of midday faded to twilight.
"The disc!" gasped Kendrick, rushing to the west windows.
They followed, tense with awe. And there, between earth and sun, its myriad towers and spires refracting a weird radiance, hovered that vast flying city.
"My God!" muttered a famous general, staring as though he had seen a ghost.
A great statesman opened his lips, but no words came.
"Appalling! Incredible!" burst from others of that stunned assemblage.
heir comments were cut short by a broadcast voice, thin and clear, tremendously amplified, a voice Kendrick recognized at once as that of Cor.
"People of America!" it said. "We of the planet Vada have come to conquer your country. You will be given forty-eight hours to lay down your arms. If complete surrender has not been made by high noon, two days from now, New York will be destroyed."
The voice ceased. The humming recommenced—waned in volume till it died away. Twilight turned once more to midday.
Peering fixedly through the west windows of the laboratory, the little assemblage saw the disc swallowed up in the clear blue sky.
Then they turned, faced one another gravely.
Outside, on the streets, confusion reigned. In newspaper plants, presses were whirling. In telegraph and cable offices, keys were ticking. From radio towers, waves were speeding.
Within an hour, the nation and the world knew of this planetary invader and its staggering ultimatum.
Naturally, the government at Washington refused to meet these shameful terms. Military and naval forces were rushed to the threatened metropolis. The Atlantic Fleet steamed up from Hampton Roads under forced draught and assembled in the outer harbor. Thousands of planes gathered at Mitchell Field and other nearby aerodromes.
ut where was the enemy? He must be miles up in space, Kendrick knew, as he toiled feverishly in the laboratory over his experiment after a sleepless night. For had that flying city been nearer earth, it could not have maintained invisibility without that peculiar humming vibration.
Scout planes urged on by impatient squadron commanders, climbed till they reached their ceilings, searching in vain. They could encounter nothing, see nothing of the invader.
Thus passed a morning of growing tension.
But by noon of that day, with a bare[275] twenty-four hours left before the expiration of the ultimatum, the disc came down, showed itself boldly.
There followed stunning disasters.
One salvo, and the ray shot down—the Atlantic Fleet, the pride of America, burst and melted in flaming hell. Squadrons of planes, carrying tons of bombs, frizzled like moths in the air. Mighty projectiles hurled by land batteries were deflected off on wild trajectories.
Appalled, the nation and the world followed in lurid extras these crushing defeats.
By nightfall of that day, all seemed lost. All opposition had been obliterated. America must capitulate or perish. It had until the next noon to decide which.
eanwhile, in that great Brooklyn laboratory, Kendrick was working against time, besieged by frantic delegations of the nation's leaders. They knew now that their one hope lay in him. Was he succeeding? Was there even any hope?
Face haggard, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, he waved them away, went on with his work.
"I will tell you—as soon as I know."
That was all he would say.
Followed a night that was the blackest in all history, though the myriad stars of heaven shone tauntingly brilliant in the summer sky.
At length, as dawn was breaking. Kendrick paused in his labors.
"There!" he said, grimly, surveying an apparatus that seemed to involve the entire facilities of the laboratory. "It is done! Now then—will it work?"
The delegation were called to witness the test.
Henderson Blake was among them, as was Marjorie. She stepped forward, as he prepared to make the demonstration.
"I know, somehow, you're going to be successful!" she murmured, pressing his hand, meeting his eyes with a smile of confidence.
"I hope you're right—Marjorie!" he replied, letting slip the last word almost unconsciously.
Her face colored warmly as the stepped back and rejoined her father.
Kendrick's heart was beating fast as he turned to his instruments. How could he fail, with faith like that behind him?—love, even, perhaps! He mustn't fail—nor would he, if his theories were sound.
ddressing the assemblage, he explained briefly the complicated apparatus.
"These towers," he said, pointing to four steel structures about ten feet high, arranged at the corners of a square roughly twenty feet across, "are miniature radio masts. The area enclosed by them, we will assume, is the city of New York. That metal disc suspended above the area represents the invader. It contains a miniature heat-generator such as I was experimenting with recently in the Arizona desert."
He paused, threw a switch. Somewhere in the laboratory a dynamo began to whir.
"I am now sending electro-magnetic waves from the four towers," he resumed. "But instead of broadcasting them in every direction. I am bending them in concave cathode of force over the city. You may picture this cathode as an invisible shield, if you choose, but it is more than that. It it a reflector. If my theories are right, the radio-energetic ray I am about to project upon it from my miniature disc will be flung back to its source as though it had been a ray of light falling on a mirror. The success of the experiment depends upon what the result will be."
endrick ceased, moved toward a rheostat.
As he made ready to touch it, a breathless tension settled upon the assemblage. Upon the outcome of what was now to happen rested the fate of America—and the world.[276]
Calmly, though every fiber of his being was at breaking stress, the young scientist opened the rheostat.
For an instant, the ray seared down—then, as it boomeranged back, the disc burst into flame, dissolved, disintegrated. A thin dust, like carbon, slowly settled to the laboratory floor.
Cutting off the current from the radio towers, Kendrick faced them, a light of triumph in his tired eyes.
"You see—it works," he said.
They saw. Beyond a doubt, it worked!
And what Kendrick saw, as his eyes met Marjorie's, made him forget his fatigue.
he rest was a mad scramble of preparation. Only a few brief hours remained, and much was to be done.
The application of the principle that had just been demonstrated involved a hook-up from the Consolidated Electric laboratory with every broadcasting station in the metropolitan area, power being supplied by commandeering every generating plant within a radius of fifty miles.
The city, moreover, had to be evacuated of all but the few brave hundreds who volunteered to stand by their posts at radio stations and generating plants.
As for Kendrick, it was the busiest, most hectic morning he had ever experienced. Only the realization of a girl's love and a nation's trust enabled him to overcome the exhaustion of two sleepless nights.
At length, a little before eleven, all was in readiness. Just two questions troubled the young scientist's mind. Had the people of the disc learned of their preparations to counter the attack? And would the improvised broadcasting apparatus of the area stand the stupendous strain that would be placed upon it if the ray came down?
The first of these questions was answered, staggeringly, at a quarter after eleven.
"Kendrick—oh, my God!" cried Blake, bursting into the laboratory. "Marjorie—they've got her again! Look! Read this!"
He thrust out a piece of paper. Kendrick took it, read:
Your daughter will be my queen, after this noon.
"Where'd you get it?" he gasped.
"One of the invisible devils thrust it into my hand right out in the street, not five minutes ago," Blake explained, trembling with anguish. "Do you realize what this means, Kendrick? She's on the disc now—and in a scant three-quarters of an hour...."
"Yes, I realize!" his voice came grimly. "And I realize, too, that they don't know their fate. They'll stay. There's forty-five minutes yet. We can't abandon our defense against the ray, not even for Marjorie. But I'll
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