"Well, I think we may as well swing around," said Hawkins, glancing at his
watch. "It's wonderful, the control I have over the launch now. Every bit
of the steering-gear is located in that steel dome, along with the motor,
Griggs. Nothing at all exposed but this little wheel.

"You observed, probably, that I set it a few moments ago, so that the wind
wouldn't blow us about, and haven't touched it since. Now note how we
shall turn back."

Hawkins grasped his little wheel, puffed up his chest, and gave a
tremendous twist.

And the wheel snapped off in Hawkins' hands!

"Why--why--why----" he stuttered, in amazement.

"Yes, now you've done it!" I rapped out, savagely. "How the dickens are we
to get back?"

"There, Griggs, there," said Hawkins, "don't be so childishly impatient. I
shall simply unlock this case again and control the steering-gear from the
inside. Certainly even you must be able to understand that."

The calm superiority of his tone was maddening.

One or two of my sentiments defied restraint.

Heaven knows I didn't suppose it would make Hawkins nervous to hear them,
but it did. His hands shook as he fumbled with the key of his steel box,
and at a particularly vicious remark of mine he stood erect.