“Five and thirty-hundredths seconds,” muttered Kennedy. “I had five and thirty-five hundredths. It’s coming nearer—you hear the sound direct again?”
I did, just a trifle more distinctly, and I said so.
Confirmed in his own judgment, Craig hastily turned to the student. “Run up there to the boat-house,” he directed. “Have Riley call that wireless operator on the telephone and tell him to get the Sybarite on the wireless—if he hasn’t done it already. Then have him tell them not to try to move the yacht under any circumstance—but for God’s sake to get off it themselves—as quick as they can!”
“What’s the matter?” I asked, breathlessly. “What was that humming in the oscillator?”
“The wireless destroyer—the telautomaton model—has been launched full at the Sybarite,” Craig exclaimed. “You remember it was large enough, even if it was only a model, to destroy a good-sized craft if it carried a charge of high explosive. It has been launched and is being directed from that fast cruiser back of the point.”
We looked at one another aghast. What could we do? There was a sickening feeling of helplessness in the face of this new terror of the seas.
“It—it has really been launched?” cried an agitated voice of a girl behind us.
Paquita had pushed her way altogether through the crowd while we were engrossed in listening through the submarine ear. She had heard what Kennedy had just said and now stood before us, staring wildly.
“Oh,” she cried, frantically clasping her hands, “isn’t there anything—anything that can stop it—that can save him?”
She was not acting now. There could be no doubt of the genuineness of her anxiety, nor of whom the “him” meant. I wondered whether she might have been directly or indirectly responsible, whether she was not now repentant for whatever part she had played. At least she must be, as far as Shelby Maddox was involved. Then I recollected the black looks that Sanchez had given Shelby earlier in the evening. Was jealousy playing a part as well as cupidity?