Tony whistled softly, and saw Phil jerk aside, crying out something. A slim form came hurtling toward the window. Tony got a glimpse of Jimmy’s pale young face; then the boy was hurtling out into space, almost overshooting the mark in his eagerness. Tony seized his arm and pulled him back as he swayed on the ship’s edge. The craft dipped slightly under the additional weight, and then lifted again as compensatory stabilizers went into action. * * * * * From within the room came a crash, and a sharp cry of pain. Phil appeared, his face stolid and expressionless. He jumped, landing accurately, and immediately whirled. In his hand, Tony saw, was a bronze figurine he had snatched up from a table. “Run for it!” he snapped. There were faces in the window. A gun snarled viciously. Phil hurled the figurine with deadly aim, shattering the glass above the group, and the investigators dodged back as shards and splinters showered them. Almost immediately they were back—but Tony’s hands had found the controls. The ship fled up. As it fled it curved southward, till far below could be seen the shining waters of Long Island Sound. Jimmy said tautly, “They’re coming after us. I can see planes—” Phil touched a lever. The upper framework of the plane was instantly sheathed with transparent walls, making it more than ever resemble a fat, shining cigar. Tony sent the craft rocketing down. Almost at the surface of the water, he pulled out into a glide, swooping almost without a splash into the Sound. The light was blotted out by green translucence that grew darker as the ship slanted into the depths. “Not too deep,” Phil suggested. “The hull won’t stand a crack-up.” Tony didn’t answer. He was fingering the controls, trying to get every possible bit of speed out of the ship before the pursuers located it with their search-rays. If they could reach the outer Atlantic, they’d be safe—barring accident. But they were not safe in the Sound. Abruptly the water ahead sizzled and bubbled with heat. An aerial torpedo had been launched. Tony shot up and then almost immediately dived again, shifting sharply to the left. Before his companions could get their breath, the ship was rushing back along the way it had came, retracing its path. Jimmy said sharply, “What the hell—” Phil’s fingers dug into the youngster’s arm. “Good idea, Tony.” The latter nodded. “Maybe. We’ll dig in at the mouth of the Hudson. They’ll never look for us there. Then tonight we can slip out, take the air again—and head for the Company.” Jimmy said, “Once we’re there, we’re safe. There’s no extradition from the Legion, eh?” “Only to Hell,” Tony remarked, grinning. CHAPTER III Legion of the Lost “So,” said the fat little man with the shaved head, “so you want to join the Legion. Eh?”