A man standing near the tape switched off the droning voice. At the receiving table, every few seconds came the buzz of the laboratory's call. Wrangel Island again calling Robins; but no one paid any heed. Argo finished at the mirror. He glanced over the tape, smiling sardonically. Then, methodically, deliberately, he swept the instruments to the floor, jerked out the connections, turned out the current--wrecked it all with a few strokes. A moment later we were taken away. Outside, from back by the low reaches of the Cape, we saw an aero rising. They had loaded it with Dr. Brende's effects, and in it half of the men were departing. It rose vertically until we could see it only as a speck in the blue of the morning sky--a speck vanishing to the north over the Pole. With four or five of the men--all those remaining--Argo took us three to the Brende car. We did not pass Dr. Brende's body, lying there in the outer room. Elza and Georg gazed that way involuntarily; but they said nothing. The greatest grief is that which is hidden, and never once afterward did either of them show it by more than an affectionate word for that father whom they had loved so dearly. Soon we were back in the Brende car in which we had landed no more than an hour before. It was a standard Byctin model--evidently Argo and his men knew how to operate it perfectly. We were herded into the pit, and in a moment more were in the air. Argo seemed now rather anxious to make friends with us. He was in a high good humor. His eyes flashed at me sharply when I questioned him once or twice; but he offered us no indignities. To Elza he spoke commandingly, but with that deference to which every woman of birth and breeding is entitled from a man. We rose straight up and, at 18,000 feet, headed northward by a point or two west. We would pass the Pole on our right--too far to sight it with the naked eye, I realized; but I knew, too, that the Director there would see the distant image of us on his finder, even though we refused connection should he call us. And we had no right to be up here in the 18,000-foot lane. They'd order us down--shut off our power, if necessary. We could not escape observation on this daylight flight. Heading this way, it would take us past the Pole and on southward, down the Western Hemisphere over the Americas. We could not refuse connection for long. We would be challenged, then brought down. Or, if Argo answered a call, some Director would examine our pit with his finder--would see Elza, Georg and me as prisoners. We could gesture surreptitiously to him.... My thoughts ran on. Argo's soft, ironic voice brought me out of them. "We will answer the first call that comes," he said smilingly. "You understand? We are the Inter-Allied News on Official Dispatch." He was addressing me, his glance going to the insignia on my cap. "_You_ are of the Inter-Allied?" "Yes," I said. "What's your name?" I did not like his tone. "None of your--"