made every separate
raindrop look like a speck of molten metal, he saw another airplane.
It was close. Breath-takingly close. It came diving down out of
nowhere and passed less than twenty yards before the nose of the
amphibian. It glistened with wet, and glittered unbearably in the
incredible brightness of the lightning. Every spot and speck and
detail showed with an almost ghastly distinctness. But it dived on
past, its pilot rigid and tense and unseeing, plunging like a meteor
straight downward. The golden, iridescent mist of rain closed over its
body. And it was gone.

Ten minutes later Bell was driving onward through a gray obscurity,
which now was no more than tinted pink by receding lightning-flashes.
The air was still uneven and treacherous. The big plane hurtled
downward hundreds of feet in wild descending gusts among the hills,
and was then flung upward on invisible billows of air for other
hundreds of feet. But it was less uncontrollable. There were periods
of minutes when the safety-belts did not come into use.

* * * * *

And later still, half an hour perhaps, the steadiness of the air gave
assurance that the plane was past the range of the Serra da Carioca
and was headed inland. He drove on, watching his instruments and
flying blind, but with a gathering confidence in an ultimate escape
from the swarm of aircraft Ribiera had sent aloft in the teeth of the
storm to hunt for him. The motors hummed outside the padded cabin. The
girl beside him was very quiet and very still and very pale.

"We want to get out of this before long," he said in her ear, "and
then we can find out where we are, and especially begin to make some
plans for ourselves."

Her eyes turned to him. There was a curious stiffness in her manner.
It might have seemed reserve, but Bell recognized the symptoms of a
woman whose self-control is hanging by a thread. He smiled.

"Hold on a while yet," he said gently. "I know you want to cry. But
please hold on a while yet. When we reach friends...."

Her hands went to her throat, and he could feel the effort of will
that kept her voice steady.

"Friends? We have no friends." She managed a smile. "The Senhor
Ribiera explained to me when I arrived at his house how it was that no
questions would be asked about my disappearance. My father is dead.
The newspapers this morning said that it was not known whether he
killed himself or was assassinated. The Senhor Rib