"Mother, Dottie's all right," he said rapidly but gently. "Steel's got her, but they won't keep her long. Don't worry, we'll get her. It may take a week or it may take a year, but we'll bring her back," and leaping upon his motorcycle, he shattered all the speed laws on his way to Crane's house.
"Mart!" he yelled, rushing into the shop, "they've got Dottie, in a bus made from our plans. Let's go!" as he started on a run for the testing shed.
"Wait a minute!" crisply shouted Crane. "Don't go off half-cocked. What is your plan?"
"Plan, hell!" barked the enraged chemist. "Chase 'em!"
"Which way did they go, and when?"
"Straight up, full power, twenty minutes ago."
"Too long ago. Straight up has changed its direction several degrees since then. They may have covered a million miles, or they may have come back and landed next door. Sit down and think—we need all your brains now."
Regaining his self-possession as the wisdom of his friend's advice came home to him, Seaton sat down and pulled out his pipe. There was a tense silence for an instant. Then he leaped to his feet and darted into his room, returning with an object-compass whose needle pointed upward.
"DuQuesne did it," he cried exultantly. "This baby is still looking right at him. Now let's go—make it snappy!"
"Not yet. We should find out how far away they are; that may give us an idea."