The girl stood docile: Charlie was chattering with fright. A desperation was on Alan; he shoved at Charlie. "Come on!"
But he stopped abruptly. The Indian had come to the laboratory door. He shouted—vehement, guttural words. An answer came. Dr. Turber! The man appeared in the light of a lower doorway in the main building.
All thought of flight was momentarily stricken from Alan's mind. "Charlie, wait!" They were standing by the upright wheelbarrow. "Look!"
Turber came running. The shaft of light from the doorway picked out his running figure. He was heading for the laboratory door. Not to menace these intruders; knowing only that his secret was discovered. With his hospital in uproar around him, Turber was in flight.
The Indian disappeared back into the room; Turber went at a full run through its doorway. Alan had not thought to try and stop him. Instead, he moved to the door, fascinated.
The room already was empty; Turber had gone through it; was leaping into the vehicle of the inner courtyard. An instant. Then the huge aero—it was nearly a hundred feet long—with all its gray solidity, began melting. Dissolving. A wraith of a cabin with wings—a dissipating phantom—
The inner courtyard was empty!
Charlie's voice: "Look! There it is! There it is!"
From the top of the laboratory building—perhaps automatically operated by the going of the aero—the searchlight beam was standing up into the air!
Alan found his wits. "Charlie, for God's sake lead us out of here! You don't want to get caught in this affair."