Nelson went back to the bridge, and Androka returned to the commander's cabin. Curtis lingered in the wireless room with the radio operator.
"It's a funny thing," the latter said, still dialing and grousing, "how I got that cross-bearing through and can't get another squeak out of her. I'm wondering if that old goat really has done something to the ether. The set seems O. K."
He lingered over the apparatus, checking and rechecking. Tubes lighted; wires were alive to the touch and set him to shaking his head at the tingle they sent through his inquiring fingers.
Curtis left him at it, and went to rejoin Androka in the cabin. He found the little inventor pacing up and down, shaking his fists in the air; pausing every now and then to run his bony fingers through his tangled mop of gray hair, or to claw nervously at his beard.
"You have seen a miracle, commander!" he shouted at Curtis. "My miracle! My invention has shattered the ether waves hereabouts hopelessly."
"Seems to me," Curtis said dryly, "this invention can harm your friends as much as your enemies."
The scientist drew himself up to his full height—which was only a little over five feet. His voice grew shrill. "Wait! Just wait! There are other inventions to supplement this one. Put them together, and they will defeat the Nazi hordes which have ravaged my country!"
Curtis was a little shocked by the hatred that gleamed in Androka's eyes, under their bushy brows. There was something of the wild animal in the man's expression, as his lips drew back from his yellowed teeth.
"Those tanks you have below," Curtis said, "have they some connection with this radio silence?"
A far-away look came into Androka's eyes. He did not seem to hear the question. He lowered his voice: "My daughter is still in Prague. So are my sister and her husband, and their two daughters. If the gestapo knew what I am doing, all of them would be better dead. You understand—better dead?"