now. Instead, I ask you to go to the
wireless room and have the wireless operator try to get in touch with
that plane. It is a two-motored seaplane and it his a wireless outfit.
It will answer the call M.S.T.R. Ask him to use his directional
wireless and try to guide it to the ship. It brings the antidote to
the poison which affects me."

Bell made for the door. Ortiz raised his head with a ghastly smile.

"Close the door tightly," he said quietly. "I--I feel as if I shall be
unpleasant."

* * * * *

Closing the door behind him, Bell felt rather like a man in a
nightmare. He made for the stairway, bolted for the deck, and fairly
darted up the ladder to the wireless room.

"Ortiz sent me," he said to the operator. "You heard that plane just
now. See if you can get it."

The operator looked up at him beneath a green eyeshade and grinned
crookedly.

"Talking to 'em now," he said.

The key flicked up and down, and a tiny dancing spark leaped into
being and vanished beneath its contact-point. The wireless room was
dark save for the bright, shaded light above the sending table. A file
of sent messages by an elbow. A pad for messages received was by a
hand. Stray wreaths of tobacco smoke floated about the room, leaping
into view as they drifted beneath the lamp.

"Is he bad?" asked the operator fascinatedly, his eyes fixed on his
key.

Bell felt his eyelids flicker.

"Very bad," he said shortly.

"They tell me," said the operator and shuddered, "your hands get
working and you can't stop 'em.... I'm playing, I am! I'm playing The
Master's game!"

* * * * *

The key stopped. He listened.

"They're going to try to swoop over the ship and drop it," he said a
moment later. "I don't think they can. But tell Ortiz they're going to
try."

Bell's eyes were narrow. It is not customary for a radio operator on a
passenger ship to speak of an ex-Cabinet Minister of the Argentine
Republic by his surname only. It bespeaks either impertinence or a
certain very peculiar association. Bell frowned imperceptibly for an
instant, thinking.

"You've--had it?" he asked sharply.

"God, no! I never took the chance! I saw the red spots once, and I
went to Rib--Say! You got a password?"

He was staring up at Bell. Bell shrugged.

"I'm trying to help Senor Ortiz now."

The operator continued to stare, his eyes full of suspicion. Then he
grimaced.

"All right. Go