"Well," demanded Hogarth, "what success?"
Dan looked up casually. "Oh," he declared, trying to appear unconcerned, "as much as could be expected."
"What the devil does that mean?" snapped Wiley, projecting his ridged horse-face pugnaciously. "You promised results in a week. Have you had them? Can you put the earth back on its orbit?"
"If you'll give me more time—"
"More time, and we'll all be driven to our deaths!" stormed Malvine. "Not another day! No, not another hour!"
Wiley, who had been peering into the recesses of the Deflector, was fumbling in an exploratory fashion at its fittings. Suddenly he pulled a half concealed lever, released a panel, and let out a low whistle. "What in blazes is this?"
With an angry wrench, he drew out a mass of wires, bulbs and batteries. "Looks to me like a radio transmitter!" he growled.
All three men glared menace at Dan. He had foreseen and dreaded this very event. Confronted with the evidence, it would be folly to attempt a denial. His only course would be to try to turn suspicion in the least dangerous channel.
"Of course it's a radio transmitter," he admitted, quietly. "I'll be frank with you—I was hoping to find a chance to get away."
Ominously the three conspirators closed about him. There was a nasty rumble in Wiley's voice as he decided. "Well then, you damned traitor, it's up to us to put you where you won't get away—not for many a good long day! We were cursed fools to place any trust in you!"