Then with a
free, quick stride, he started forward toward the gallery where he had
seen Bohannan and the Master.
The two awaited him. Confidently he came into the wind-shielded
gallery on top of _Nissr's_ port plane. He advanced to within
about six feet, stopped, gave the military salute--which they both
returned--and in a throaty French that marked him as from Paris,
demanded:
"Which of you gentlemen is in command, here?"
"_Moi, monsieur!_" answered the Master, also speaking French. "And
what is your errand?"
"I have come to inform you, in the name of the A.C.B.'s law,
recognized as binding by all air-traffic, that you and your entire
crew are under arrest."
"Indeed? And then--"
"I am to take charge of this machine at once, and proceed with it as
per further instructions from International Aerial headquarters at
Washington."
"Very interesting news, no doubt," replied the Master, unmoved. "But I
cannot examine your credentials, nor can we negotiate matters of such
importance in so off-hand a manner. This gallery will not serve. Pray
accompany me to my cabin?"
"_Parfaitement, monsieur!_ I await your pleasure!"
The stranger's gesture, his bow, proclaimed the Parisian as well as
his speech.
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