"Congratulations on your attempt," the message ran, "I have watched your career with the greatest interest, Lee, through the medium of such scraps of information as I have been able to pick up on the Moon. When you are my guest to-morrow I shall hope to be able to offer you a high post in the new World Government that I am planning to establish. I need good men. Fraternally, the Black Caesar."
Nat whirled about. Madge Dawes was standing behind him, trying to read the message over his shoulder.
"Spying, eh?" said Nat bitterly.
"My dear man, isn't that my business?"
"Well, read this, then," said Nat, handing her the message. "You're likely to repent this crazy trick of yours before we get much farther."
And he pointed to the cosmic-ray skiagraph of the Moon on the curved glass dome overhead. They were approaching the satellite rapidly. It filled the whole dome, the craters great black hollows, the mountains standing out clearly. Beneath the dome were the radium apparatus that emitted the rays by which the satellite was photographed cinematographically, and the gyroscope steering apparatus by which the ship's course was directed.
Suddenly a buzzer sounded a warning. Nat sprang to the tube.
"Gravitational interference X40, gyroscopic aberrancy one minute 29," he called. "Discharge static electricity from hull. Mr. Benson, stand by."
"What does that mean?" asked Madge.
"It means I shall be obliged if you'll abstain from speaking to the man at the controls," snapped Nat.