"If the world knew of the danger, we could get help."
"That's where you come in. I told you that I should need publicity. It is your business to tell the public about things. I want you to tell humanity about the danger from Mars. Make it convincing and make it strong! Say anything you like so long as you leave the Prince of Space out of it. I have the body of the Martian that attacked me preserved in alcohol. You have that and the wreckage in the desert to substantiate your story. I will land you at Trainor's Tower in New York tonight. You will have twenty-four hours to convince the world, and raise two tons of vitalium. It has to be done!"
"A big order," Bill said doubtfully. "But I'll do my best."
The city was a bright carpet of twinkling lights when the Red Rover darted down out of a black sky, hovering for a moment over Trainor's Tower. When it flashed away, Bill was standing alone on top of the loftiest building on earth, in his pocket a sheaf of manuscript on which he had been at work for many hours, beside him a bulky package that contained the preserved body of the weird monster from Mars.
He opened the trapdoor—which was conveniently unlocked—took up the package, and clambered down a ladder into the observatory. An intent man was busy at the great telescope—which pointed toward the red planet Mars. The man looked understandingly at Bill, and nodded toward the elevator.
In half an hour Bill was exhibiting his package and his manuscript to the night editor of the Herald-Sun.
"The greatest news in the century!" he cried. "The Earth attacked by Mars! It was a Martian ship that took the Helicon. I have one of the dead creatures from Mars in this box."
The astounded editor formed a quick opinion that his star reporter had met with some terrifying experience that had unsettled his brain. He listened skeptically while Bill related a true enough account of the cruise of the Moon Patrol ships, and of the battle with the blue globe. Bill omitted any mention of the City of Space and its enigmatic ruler; but let it be assumed that the Fury had rammed the globe and that it had fallen in the desert. He ended with a wholly fictitious account of how a mysterious scientist had picked him up in a sunship, had told him of the invaders from Mars, and had sent him to collect two tons of vitalium to equip his ship for a raid on Mars. Bill had spent many hours in planning his story; he was sure that it sounded as plausible as the amazing reality of the Prince of Space and his wonderful city.
The skeptical editor was finally convinced, as much by his faith in Bill's probity as by the body of the green monster, the scraps of a strange white metal, and the photographs, which he presented as material evidence. The editor radioed to have a plane sent from El Paso, Texas, to investigate the wrecks. When it was reported that they were just as Bill had said, the Herald-Sun issued an extra, which carried Bill's full account, with photographs of the dead monster, and scientific accounts of the other evidence. There was an appeal for two tons of vitalium, to enable the unknown scientist to save the world by making a raid on Mars.
The story created an enormous sensation all over the world. A good many people believed it. The Herald-Sun actually received half a million eagles in subscriptions to buy the vitalium—a sum sufficient to purchase about eleven ounces of that precious metal.