Astounding Stories of Super-Science, August 1930

"Bell," said Jamison dryly, "considering that I'm prepared to be blown apart on three seconds notice, it is peculiar that this mob frightens me." The Master's eyes twinkled benignly. He seemed totally insensible to fear. "You need not be afraid," he said gently. "They will not touch you unless I order them." Jamison stared down at the little man whose collar he held firmly, with a Mills grenade dangling down at the base of his neck. "I wouldn't order them to attack, if I were you," he said coldly. "I haven't Bell's brains, but I have just as much dislike for you as he has." They came to the harbor. Bell spoke again. "The carriage is to drive out to the end of one of the docks, and no one else is to go out on that dock." The Master relayed the order in his mild voice, but as the coachman obeyed him he clucked his tongue commiseratingly. "Senor Bell," he protested gently. "You do not expect to escape! Not after killing me! Why that is absurd!" Bell said nothing. He alighted from the carriage, his face set grimly, and stared ashore at the long, long row of terrified faces staring out at him. The whole waterfront seemed to be lined with staring faces. Wails came from that mass of enslaved human beings. "Hold him here, Jamison," he said drearily. "I'm going out to look at that big plane. There's a rowboat tied to the dock, here." He swung down the side into the dock and rowed off into the harbor, while the horses attached to The Master's carriage pawed impatiently at the wooden flooring of the dock. Bell reached the two planes anchored on the still harbor water. The smaller one had brought them down from Buenos Aires. The larger one had gone after the beached amphibian and brought it and Paula on to the city. Bell, from the shore, was seen to be investigating the larger one. He came rowing back.