The Frenchman produced a silver cigarette-case, opened it and extended it toward the man now technically his prisoner.  As yet he had said no word concerning the tremendous execution done the air police forces.  His offer of the cigarettes was as calm, as courteous as if they two had met under circumstances of the most casual amity.  The Master waved the cigarettes away.

“Thank you, no,” said he.  “I never smoke.  But you will perhaps pardon me if I nibble two or three of these khat leaves.  You yourself, from your experience in Oriental countries, know the value of khat.”

“I do, indeed,” said the other, his eyes lighting up.

“And may I offer you a few leaves?”

“Merci!  I thank you, but tobacco still satisfies.”  The Frenchman lighted his cigarette, blew thin smoke, and cast intelligent, keen eyes about the cabin.  Said he: 

“You will not, of course, offer any resistance.  I realize that I am here among a large crew of men.  I am all alone, it is true.  You could easily overpower me, throw me into the sea, and voila—­I die.  But that would not be of any avail to you.

“Already perhaps a hundred and fifty air police have fallen this morning.  It is strange.  I do not understand, but such is the fact.  Nevertheless, I am here, myself.  I have survived—­survived, to convey organized society’s message of arrest.  Individuals do not count.  They are only representatives of the mass-power of society. N’est-ce pas?”

“Quite correct.  And then—­”

“Sooner or later you must land somewhere for petrol, you know.  For essence, eh?  Just as sea-pirates were wiped out by the coming of steam-power, which they had to adopt and which forced them to call at ports for coal, so air-pirates will perish because they must have essence.  That is entirely obvious.  Have I the honor of your signed surrender, my dear sir, including that of all your men?”

“Just one question, please!”

“A thousand, if you like,” smiled the Parisian, inhaling smoke.  His courtesy was perfect, but the glint of his eye made one think of a tiger that purrs, with claws ready to strike.

“What,” demanded the Master, “is your opinion of the peculiar and sudden fall of all your companions?”

“I have no opinion as to that.  Strange air-currents, failure of ignition due to lack of oxygen—­how do I know?  A thousand things may happen in the air.”

“Not to more than a hundred planes, all in a half-hour.”

The Frenchman shrugged indifferent shoulders and smiled.

“It does not signify, in the least,” he murmured.  “I am here.  That suffices.”

“Do you realize that I, perhaps, have forces at my command which may negative ordinary conditions and recognized laws?”

“Nothing can negative the forces of organized society.  I repeat my request, monsieur, for your unconditional written surrender.”