a door that gave access to the main, longitudinal corridor, and the
right and left points joining the walls of the backward-sloping prow.
It contained two sofa-lockers with gas-inflated, leather cushions, a
chart-rack, pilot's seat, controls, and instrument-board.

The whole front was a magnificent stretch of double plate-glass, with
warm air between the sheets to keep snow, frost, or dew from obscuring
the vision. Bright light flooded it.

Though one window had been slid partly open--the window on the sill of
which the sleeping aviator had lain--a scent of cigarette-smoke still
permeated the place. The Master sniffed with disgust. Then suddenly,
to the great astonishment of Bohannan, he commanded:

"Bring me that champagne, in the saloon. All of it!"

The major opened wide eyes, but unquestioningly obeyed. Could it be
possible the Master, in this moment of exultation, was about to break
his lifelong rule and drink a toast, in sparkling bubbles, to success
thus far achieved, to the stupendous voyage now about to begin?

Wondering, Bohannan departed. The Master gestured for Captain Alden to
seat himself on one of the lockers. Alden kept complete silence as
he sat down, crossed one leg over the other and began to study the
complex apparatus before him. Most of it was familiar; but some new
factors needed inspection.

The Master peered curiously at him. Surely, this man was odd, unusual.
Most aviators, thus confronted by strange problems, would have grown
loquacious, tried to exhibit their knowledge, asked questions, made