“None whatever,” answered Kearns. “I’ve been too busy with other matters. I’m after the main quarry. The subordinate details, if necessary, can be attended to later.”
This seemed sound reasoning and neither of the others ventured a reply. The moments slowly passed. They sat there in the darkness exchanging only occasional whispers. They heard the chime of one of the palace clocks—an hour had passed and still nothing. Again the clock chimed; it was the quarter. The sound had barely died away in the darkness of the summer night, when Kearns laid a light touch upon the Professor’s arm.
“At last!”
The three bent their heads together.
“Look upward—to the right!” came the low whisper.
They strained their eyes in the direction indicated. Faintly seen in the darkness was a shadowy something, the outline of some black object floating in the air.
“Steady!” whispered Kearns, in an ever so faint whisper. “Not a move till I give the word!”
The dark object, though still indistinct, became gradually more clearly outlined. It crossed at some little distance out and above their window, passed the windows of the King’s apartment and was lost to their view opposite the window of the antechamber where the King’s officer on duty kept guard.
“An air-ship—an air-ship, sure enough,” whispered the Professor. “And apparently painted dead black.”
“Quite so,” replied Kearns, “but this time we’ll match your gray one against the black. Great Scott! To think that I’m not in the race.”