errific was their speed, that the friction of the air did not have
time to set them afire--they were through it and into the perfect vacuum
of interstellar space before the thick steel hull was even warmed
through. Dorothy lay flat upon her back, just as she had fallen, unable
even to move her arms, gaining each breath only by a terrible effort.
Perkins was a huddled heap under the instrument-board. The other
captive, Brookings' ex-secretary, was in somewhat better case, as her
bonds had snapped like string and she was lying at full length in one of
the side-seats--forced into that position and held there, as the design
of the seats was adapted for the most comfortable position possible
under such conditions. She, like Dorothy, was gasping for breath, her
straining muscles barely able to force air into her lungs because of the
paralyzing weight of her chest.

DuQuesne alone was able to move, and it required all of his Herculean
strength to creep and crawl, snake-like, toward the instrument-board.
Finally attaining his goal, he summoned all his strength to grasp, not
the controlling lever, which he knew was beyond his reach, but a cut-out
switch only a couple of feet above his head. With a series of convulsive
movements he fought his way up, first until he was crouching on his
elbows and knees, and then into a squatting position. Placing his left
hand under his right, he made a last supreme effort. Perspiration
streamed from him, his mighty muscles stood out in ridges visible even
under the heavy leather of his coat, his lips parted in a snarl over his
locked teeth as he threw every ounce of his wonderful body into an
effort to force his right hand up to the switch. His hand approached it
slowly--closed over it and pulled it out.

The result was startling. With the mighty power instantly cut off, and
with not even the ordinary force of gravitation to counteract the force
DuQuesne was exerting, his own muscular effort hurled him up toward the
center of the car and against the instrument-board. The switch, still in
his grasp, was again closed. His shoulder crashed against the levers
which controlled the direction of the bar, swinging it through a wide
arc. As the ship darted off in the new direction with all its old
acceleration, he was hurled against the instrument board, tearing one
end loose from its supports and falling unconscious to the floor on the
other side. After a time, which seemed like an eternity, Dorothy and