Ortiz clamped his jaws together.
"I was about to speak," he said steadily, "to tell you—many things. Which your government should know. Instead, I ask you to go to the wireless room and have the wireless operator try to get in touch with that plane. It is a two-motored seaplane and it has a wireless outfit. It will answer the call M.S.T.R. Ask him to use his directional wireless and try to guide it to the ship. It brings the antidote to the poison which affects me."
Bell made for the door. Ortiz raised his head with a ghastly smile.
"Close the door tightly," he said quietly. "I—I feel as if I shall be unpleasant."
losing the door behind him, Bell felt rather like a man in a nightmare. He made for the stairway, bolted for the deck, and fairly darted up the ladder to the wireless room.
"Ortiz sent me," he said to the operator. "You heard that plane just now. See if you can get it."
The operator looked up at him beneath a green eyeshade and grinned crookedly.
"Talking to 'em now," he said.