As I hurried after Norton I heard a volley of oaths from Orthis and a burst of almost maniacal laughter. When I reached the pilot house I found Norton working very quietly with the controls. There was nothing hysterical in his movements, but his face was absolutely ashen.
“What is wrong, Mr. Norton?” I asked. But as I looked at the compass simultaneously I read my answer there before he spoke. We were moving at right angles to our proper course.
“We are falling toward the Moon, sir,” he said, “and she does not respond to her control.”
“Shut down the engines,” I ordered, “they are only accelerating our fall.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” he replied.
“The Lunar Eighth Ray tank is of sufficient capacity to keep us off the Moon,” I said. “If it has not been tampered with, we should be in no danger of falling to the Moon’s surface.”
“If it has not been tampered with, sir; yes, sir, that is what I have been thinking.”
“But the gauge here shows it full to capacity,” I reminded him.
“I know, sir,” he replied, “but if it were full to capacity, we should not be falling so rapidly.”
Immediately I fell to examining the gauge, almost at once discovering that it had been tampered with and the needle set permanently to indicate a maximum supply. I turned to my companion.