"Not the latter, sir! I swear that!"

"How did you know there was going to be an expedition, at all?"
demanded the Master, his brows tensed, lips hard, eyes very keen. The
aviator seemed smiling, as he answered:

"I know many things. Some may be useful to you all. I am offering you
my skill and knowledge, such as they may be, without any thought or
hope of reward."

"Why?"

"Because I am tired of life. Because I want--must have--the freedom of
the open roads, the inspiration of some great adventure! Surely, you
understand."

"Yes, if what you say is true, and you are not a spy. Show us your
face, sir!"

The aviator loosened his helmet and removed it, disclosing a mass of
dark hair, a well-shaped head and a vigorous neck. Then he took off
his goggles.

A kind of communal whisper of astonishment and hostility ran round the
apartment. The man's whole face--save for eyeholes through which
dark pupils looked strangely out--was covered by a close-fitting,
flesh-colored celluloid mask.

This mask reached from the roots of his hair to his mouth. It sloped
away down the left jaw, and somewhat up the cheekbone of the right