And then we were over lower New York. The parks were wan, white blobs; the streets were black canyons; the great buildings with their archways and pedestrian levels in the crowded lower district stood like frozen headstones--Davis swooped--I saw a great office building in which, it seemed, the water system must have burst and flooded it when still there was warmth inside; its facade was a mass of ice. The plane zoomed up and only the stars were visible. [Illustration: Gaunt, ghostly in the moonlight, lay the frost-congealed city of New York. Like frozen headstones the great buildings stood, coated with glistening ice. Nowhere, on land or water, was there any sign of life or motion.] Above the motor drone from the audiphone, the President's voice said: "Ask him about Robinson. Where is he?" Then we saw Robinson's large quadru-plane with its helicopters folded, its cabin hanging like a silver bullet beneath the lower wing. It came swinging into our image from one side, and headed north into the starlight. Abruptly we heard Davis's voice: "Above Central Park. It's piled level as an Arctic snow-field. In the lower city there seemed no lights--saw no sign of any one remaining. The enemy is in the open country up ahead--northeast of the Yonkers district--Look! There now, you see the enemy light!" At the distant northern horizon in the background of the image, a dull radiance of red was visible. It seemed a crimson glow standing up into the sky. Not the yellow of a reflected conflagration, but red--crimson red. "Blood!" murmured the man beside me. "Crimson stain--" Davis's voice was saying: "I'll keep in sight of Robinson. He's mounting. I'm cutting out my connection with you now--except the image and the continuous one-way sound. You'll hear and see better. Hear and see all that we do--I can begin to hear it now. Good-by to you all." His voice broke with the snap that indicated his connection was off. The War Secretary cried: "Grant! Stop him! We must be able to talk with him--give him orders! That fool--dare-devil--he's likely to do anything just so we may see and hear as much as possible!" But the connection was broken. Davis, with that ominous, significant "Good-by to you all," had cut out so that we might see and hear in full volume. We could no longer communicate with him. The mirror was brighter and clearer with its greater power; the drone of the motors came louder; and then dimmed suddenly as Davis evidently threw in his mufflers. In the silence now, we heard another sound. The sound of the enemy! The sound of that crimson radiance in the sky ahead! A low whine. It did not seem electrical. A whine--more like a giant animal in distress.