“No, no—­let that fellow come aboard, if he wants,” the Master commanded.  And with eager curiosity in his dark eyes, with vast wonder what manner of human this might be who—­all alone after having seen more than a hundred comrades plunge—­still ventured closing to grips, the Master watched.

The air-wasp was already swerving, making a spiral glide, coming up astern with obvious intentions.  As the two men watched—­and as a score of other eyes, from other galleries and ports likewise observed—­the lean wasp carried out her driver’s plan.  With a sudden, plunging swoop, she dived at the Eagle of the Sky for all the world like a hawk stooping at quarry.

A moment she kept pace with the air-liner’s whirring rush.  She hovered, dropped with a wondrous precision that proved her rider’s consummate skill, made a perfect landing on the long take-off that stretched from rudders to wing observation galleries, atop the liner.

Forward on Nissr the wasp ran on her small, cushioned wheels.  She stopped, with jammed-on brakes, and came to rest not forty feet abaft the Eagle’s beak.

Quite at once, without delay, the little door of the pilot-pit in the wasp’s head swung wide, and a heavily-swaddled figure clambered out.  This figure stood a moment, peering about through goggles.  Then with a free, quick stride, he started forward toward the gallery where he had seen Bohannan and the Master.

The two awaited him.  Confidently he came into the wind-shielded gallery on top of Nissr’s port plane.  He advanced to within about six feet, stopped, gave the military salute—­which they both returned—­and in a throaty French that marked him as from Paris, demanded: 

“Which of you gentlemen is in command, here?”

“Moi, monsieur!” answered the Master, also speaking French.  “And what is your errand?”

“I have come to inform you, in the name of the A.C.B.’s law, recognized as binding by all air-traffic, that you and your entire crew are under arrest.”

“Indeed?  And then—­”

“I am to take charge of this machine at once, and proceed with it as per further instructions from International Aerial headquarters at Washington.”

“Very interesting news, no doubt,” replied the Master, unmoved.  “But I cannot examine your credentials, nor can we negotiate matters of such importance in so off-hand a manner.  This gallery will not serve.  Pray accompany me to my cabin?”

“Parfaitement, monsieur! I await your pleasure!”

The stranger’s gesture, his bow, proclaimed the Parisian as well as his speech.  The Master nodded.  All three proceeded in silence to the hooded companion-way at the forward end of the take-off, that sheltered the ladder.  This they descended, to the main corridor.

There they paused, a moment.

“Major,” said the Master, “pardon me, but I wish to speak to our—­guest, alone.  You understand.”