With the failure of his past-tense picture-play in mind, he betook himself to the stadium and preparations for this greatest and latest show under Earth. There must be no miscues about a performance upon which depended the success of that “experiment” inspired by Dolores’ earth-tales of joys, as well as griefs to men. He would make his own tests of the complicated apparatus, although the plant had not failed him since installation. To establish that the Ball of Life functioned properly was his first concern. Giving it a turn, he watched the reflector pool for shadows. When the shimmering prisms of the mercury-like pond had been quieted, he was rewarded by an intimate look at a naval review somewhere on the China Sea, within focus of which the overhung ball had chanced to stop. The finder he next put to test. This instrument, of graduated tubes like those of a monster telescope, controlled the lenses of the all-seeing ball. At will, he caused it to pick up this scene and that, finally locating the dirigible which was to be the central figure of the forthcoming event, as it tossed on waves of air above the Atlantic. Closer attention did he give to the aurograph, a practicable device worked out to supplement the spectroscope, which combined on an enormous scale the principles of the radio-telephone and the phonograph. Back of the stadium, well out of way of the suspended ball, the antennæ--an elaborate network of wires--were suspended by metal-like balloons. These were insulated from Gehenna, except for the central converging wires, which led to multi-power generators. Upon a huge sounding board were the messages received, thence communicated to the stadium by annunciators. The tuning of this masterpiece of etheric control occasioned Satan some concern, but finally was accomplished to his satisfaction. Back on the control platform, surrounded by his technical chiefs, His Highness watched the stadium fill. As the appointed hour approached, he ran up the green walls which surrounded the terraced seats and from the pool flashed an order that all spectators adjust the small dynamos of the eye-shades with which they were provided on entering. He wished none to fail to see to the end the abasement of John Cabot. A moment he hesitated, then took up the telephone connected with the royal box. The lackadaisical voice of Old Original responded. “Dame Dolores in her place?” On being assured of that important fact, he turned to the Master Mechanic. “Step on the music!” Upon all ears burst an orchestration, The Song of the Sea. As surely did they hear it as though it had been carried hellward by the wind through shells, crevasses and metallic splinters. As by lutes and æeolean harps it was played, with crashes and staccato rumblings for bass. The drama of mortal cowardice, destined to turn into contempt a too-long-lasting love, was on. CHAPTER XXIV Day lifts from her couch of mists to awaken betimes the Sea, her slumbering lord.