The dawn had not yet come when we started. Dr. Weatherby’s workmen were none of them in evidence. He had sent them away a few days before. They did not know his purpose with this vehicle; it was thought among them that he was making some attempt to go to the moon. It was not a startling adventure. It caused very little comment, for since Elton’s discovery many such projects had been undertaken, though all had not been successful.
Dr. Weatherby’s activities occasioned a few daily remarks from the National Broadcasters of News, but little else.
There was, however, one of Dr. Weatherby’s assistants whom he trusted with all his secrets: a young fellow called Mascar, a wordless, grave individual, quiet, deferential of manner, but with a quick alertness that bespoke unusual efficiency.
He had been on guard in the workshop since the workmen left. When Jim and I arrived, Dr. Weatherby had sent Mascar home for his much needed sleep. But he was back again, now before dawn, ready to stand at the Elton switch and send us away.
Dr. Weatherby shook hands with him, as we all gathered by the huge bull’s-eye lens which was swung back to give ingress to the vehicle.
“You know what you are to do, Mascar. When we are well outside, throw off the Elton switch. Lock up the workshop and the house and go home. Report to the International Bureau of News that if they care to, they can announce that Dr. Weatherby’s vehicle has left the earth. You understand? Tell them they can assume, if they wish, that it will land safely on the moon.”
“I will do that,” said Mascar quietly. He shook hands with us all. And his fingers lightly touched Dolores’ head. “Good-bye, Miss Dolores.”
“Good-bye, Mascar. Good-bye. You’ve been very good to Grandfather. I thank you, Mascar. You wait at home. We will be back soon.”
“Yes,” he said. He turned away, and I could see he was striving to hide his emotion.