Blue waves of light could be seen pulsing and racing along the terrible beam and there, where it had fastened itself, they seemed to disappear in the vast and crumbling structure. For four seconds that destructive streak of light, one end of which was lost back in the mists that concealed Manhattan, tore at the proud pile. And, as the stone crumbled and the steelite fused under the mighty assault, an ominous roar swept through the night. The air was so violently agitated that the plane, miles away, tossed up and down like a tiny boat on a stormy sea. Then suddenly the bolt was gone, but its livid image still burned in the eyes of those who had been watching it. Once more, it came hurling out of the west and, like the fang of some great and deadly serpent, darted into the monster that lay in the waters of the Sound. Dirk and his companions could see plainly, by the light of the bolt itself, that it had crashed into the well from which the Lodorians first had appeared, and that it was beating and hammering its way into the very vitals of the craft. * * * * * Dazzling, blinding fire seemed to pour from the aperture through which the bolt had passed. The clamor that arose was deafening. Then again the streak of fires was withdrawn, leaving the night intensely black until, in a moment more, it came thundering out of the west again and, with an impact that made the land and the sea and the very heavens tremble, hurled its way into the depths of the doomed leviathan. Twice again it fell, a fiery scimitar out of the darkness, and twice again it careened at the vitals of the stricken monster. Then, after the assault was over, the ship still floated on the surface of the Sound and its shell, as far as Dirk and the others could judge, still was unscathed. "We will soon know our fate," remarked Steinholt calmly. "If that didn't kill those beasts we might as well give up our ghosts." "I'll drop the plane a little lower and a little nearer to the ship," said Dirk. "I don't believe that any life is surviving in that thing." "My beautiful palace is nothing but dust," sighed Fragoni, mournfully. "And all my beautiful treasures, too." "And that beautiful Zitlan," Lazarre reminded him, "and his beautiful boy friends, they are all dust too, thank God!" "It was a queer fate that Stanton met," suggested Dirk. "He thought that he would save his life by going over to our enemies, and, instead of that, he lost it." * * * * * "Poor Stanton," said Steinholt. "He was born that way, I suppose, and I, for one, am ready to forgive and forget him. And now," continued the Teuton, "I hope that we didn't do too much damage to that little boat of the Lodorians. If we could get just a little peep at the inside of it we might learn the secret of its contrivance. And then, my friends, we could do a little journeying ourselves." "Have you any theory regarding it?" asked Fragoni.