Great God! he sees it!  They all see it!  Plainly against that portion of the disc which still lifted itself above the further wall, a curious moving mass appears, lengthens, takes on shape, then shoots suddenly aloft, clearing the encircling tops of the bending, twisting and tormented trees, straight into the heart of the gale, where for one breathless moment it whirls madly about like a thing distraught, then in slow but triumphant obedience to the master hand that guides it, steadies and mounts majestically upward till it is lost to their view in the depths of impenetrable darkness.

Orlando Brotherson has accomplished his task.  He has invented a mechanism which can send an air-car straight up from its mooring place.  As the three watchers realise this, Oswald utters a cry of triumph, and Doris throws herself into Mr. Challoner’s arms.  Then they all stand transfixed again, waiting for a descent which may never come.

But hark! a new sound, mingling its clatter with all the others.  It is the rain.  Quick, maddening, drenching, it comes; enveloping them in wet in a moment.  Can they hold their faces up against it?

And the wind!  Surely it must toss that aerial messenger before it and fling it back to earth, a broken and despised toy.

“Orlando?” went up in a shriek.  “Orlando?” Oh, for a ray of light in those far-off heavens For a lull in the tremendous sounds shivering the heavens and shaking the earth!  But the tempest rages on, and they can only wait, five minutes, ten minutes, looking, hoping, fearing, without thought of self and almost without thought of each other, till suddenly as it had come, the rain ceases and the wind, with one final wail of rage and defeat, rushes away into the west, leaving behind it a sudden silence which, to their terrified hearts, seems almost more dreadful to bear than the accumulated noises of the moment just gone.

Orlando was in that shout of natural forces, but he is not in this stillness.  They look aloft, but the heavens are void.  Emptiness is where life was.  Oswald begins to sway, and Doris, remembering him now and him only, has thrown her strong young arm about him, when—­What is this sound they hear high up, high up, in the rapidly clearing vault of the heavens!  A throb—­a steady pant,—­drawing near and yet nearer,—­entering the circlet of great branches over their heads—­descending, slowly descending,—­till they catch another glimpse of those hazy outlines which had no sooner taken shape than the car disappeared from their sight within the elliptical wall open to receive it.

It had survived the gale!  It has re-entered its haven, and that, too, without colliding with aught around or any shock to those within, just as Orlando had promised; and the world was henceforth his!  Hail to Orlando Brotherson!

Oswald could hardly restrain his mad joy and enthusiasm.  Bounding to the door separating him from this conqueror of almost invincible forces, he pounded it with impatient fist.