ray? That ray that Fraser worked himself from his laboratory--the ray
that had drawn us first across the desert to this floating island of
madness! It would be a matter of seconds before Fraser would reach it
and turn it on us. There was no escape--none!

In despair I looked back at the platform. To eyes ignorant of its
horror it would have been an amazing and gorgeous sight. The crimson
lamps of the magnetic ray bloomed like huge desert flowers on the sand
two thousand feet below us; the rays flamed up with the glory of an
Italian sunset and, poised in space like a dark butterfly, floated the
huge platform bathed in its rosy light. It was beautiful. It was
unbelievable. It was horrible. I gazed, fascinated. When would Fraser
reach the lamp? When would he turn it on? I stared at the dark shadow
that I knew was the laboratory building. My eyes strained through the
growing distance. When would the glow come? That glow that meant our
death!

Suddenly I gasped. The light had gone! The great lamps down on the
desert floor were out! Darkness, swift, comforting, wrapped us in
velvet folds.

"Brice!" I yelled. "Brice has cut off the lamps--he's released the
platform. God! Look--Foulet!" My voice tore through my throat; my eyes
burned with sudden, blinding emotion. In the soft darkness of the
starry night I could see the platform waver, topple, rise! It rose
straight up, tilting and swaying in the light breeze. What was it
Fraser had said? If it was released it would go straight to the stars!
It was on its way!

But Brice! Where was Brice? Was he on that terrible rising island? I
strained my eyes through the darkness. Already Foulet had banked the
plane--we were circling; turning back. A tiny white speck took shape
beneath the rising island. A parachute! Brice was safe!

* * * * *

Ten minutes later we slid along the hard desert sand and came to a
stop. Brice came running over toward us. Foulet and I climbed out of
the plane to meet him. Silently we gripped hands. It was a solemn
moment. Beside us reared the great plane that would take us back to
safety--back to the familiar life we knew and loved. Around us
stretched the trackless wastes of the Great Arabian Desert--and above,
somewhere between us and the stars, soared the floating island of
madness.

"They believed I was mad," said Brice as we climbed back into the
plane. "I watched Fraser. I spied on the men. There were about thirty