toward the horizon, where his launch was careering away with the speed of
the wind.

It was the French liner La France which had the honor of our rescue. She
deposited us in New York on Wednesday morning.

Over the rest of this tale hover some painful memories. I am not a
fighting man, but I am free to say that when my wife and Mrs. Hawkins
delivered to me their joint opinion on broken promises, their sex alone
saved them from personal damage.

It was upon me that the blame appeared to rest entirely. At least,
Hawkins didn't come in for any of it at the time.

Just at the moment of that emotional interview, Hawkins was busy in his
work-shop--perfecting something.

It seems that the motor, after all, was our salvation. Hawkins says that
some of the power must have dribbled out of the machine proper and blown
the steel dome from its foundations.

Assuredly there was plenty of energy behind the thing when it struck me;
I have darting pains in that portion of my anatomy every damp day.

The launch has never been reported, which is probably quite as well.

Perhaps it has reached the open Polar Sea, and is butting itself into
flinders against the ice-cakes. Perhaps it is terrorizing some cannibal
tribe in the southern oceans by inflicting dents on the shoreline
of their island.