downward sweep where Chet's head had been the moment
before; and now man and bar went down together. In the same instant
Chet threw himself upon the weapon and leaped backward to his feet.

One frozen second, while, to Chet, the figures seemed as motionless as
if carved from stone--two men beside the half-opened port--Harkness in
convulsive writhing between two others--the figure of Diane, strained,
tense and helpless in Schwartzmann's grasp--and Schwartzmann, whose
aim had been disturbed, steadying the pistol deliberately upon
Harkness--

"Wait!" Chet's voice tore through the confusion. He knew he must grip
Schwartzmann's attention--hold that trigger finger that was tensed to
send a detonite bullet on its way. "Wait, damn you! I'll answer your
question. I'll tell you what we'll do!"

In that second he had swung the metal bar high; now he brought it
crashing down in front of him. Schwartzmann flinched, half turned as
if to fire at Chet, and saw the blow was not for him.

With a splintering crash, the bar went through an obstruction. There
was sound of glass that slivered to a million mangled bits--the sharp
tang of metal broken off--a crash and clatter--then silence, save for
one bit of glass that fell belatedly to the floor, its tiny jingling
crash ringing loud in the deathly stillness of the room....

It had been the control-room, this place of metal walls and of
shining, polished instruments, and it could be called that no longer.
For, battered to useless wreckage, there lay on a metal table a cage
that had once been formed of curving bars. Among the fragments a metal
ball that had guided the great ship still rocked idly from its fall,
until it, too, was still.

It was a room where nothing moved--where no person so much as
breathed....

Then came the Master Pilot's voice, and it was speaking with quiet
finality.

"And that," he said, "is your answer. Our ship has made its last
flight."

His eyes held steadily upon the blanched face of Herr Schwartzmann,
whose limp arms released the body of Diane; the pistol hung weakly at
the man's side. And the pilot's voice went on, so quiet, so hushed--so
curiously toneless in that silent room.

"What was it that you said?--that Harkness and I would be staying
here? Well, you were right when you said that, Schwartzmann; but it's
a hard sentence, that--imprisonment for life."

Chet paused now, to smile deliberately, grimly at the dark face so
bleached and bloodless,