Glancing down, the Master saw far, far below him a slowly rotating vagueness of waters black and burnished, of faintly twinkling lights. Lights and water drew backward, as the rotary motion gave way to a southern course. The Master slowed the helicopters. A glance at the altimeter showed him 1,965 feet. The compass in its binnacle gave him direction. "Pit number one!" he sharply exclaimed into the phone connecting therewith. "Yes, sir!" came back the observer's voice. "Keep a sharp eye out for _Niss'rosh_! Remember, two red lights showing there!" "Yes, sir. I'll report as soon as I pick them up." The Master, knowing his course thither should be S.E. by S., drew the liner to that exact angle. Under his skilled touch at the wheel, the compass needle steadied to the dot. The searchlight lanced its way ahead, into the vague drift of the smoke arising from New York. "Sight it, yet?" demanded the Master, presently. "Yes, sir. Just picked it up. Hold hard, sir!" Almost at once, the Master also got a glimpse of two tiny pin-pricks of crimson, high in air above the city-mass. Swiftly _Nissr_ drew over the building. Far, very far down in the chasm of emptiness, tiny strings of light--infinitesimal luminous beads on invisible threads--marked Broadway, Fifth Avenue, countless other streets. The two red winks drew almost underneath. Down plunged the searchlight, picking _Niss'rosh_ out of the gloom. Through the floor-glass, the Master could descry it clearly. He slowed, circled, playing with vacuum-lift, helicopters, engines, as if they had been keys of a familiar instrument. Presently the liner hovered, poised, sank, remained a little over 750 feet above the observatory on the roof-top. "Cracowicz!" ejaculated the Master, into the phone again, as his deft fingers made another connection. A foreign voice answered: "Yes, sir!" alertly. "Ready in the lower gallery now, with the winch and tackles!" bade the Master. Again came: "Yes, sir!" from the man in charge of the three who already knew perfectly well what was expected of them. As _Nissr_ slowly turned, a trap opened in the bottom of her lower gallery, almost directly between the two forward vacuum-floats, and down sped a little landing nacelle or basket at the end of a fine steel cable. Swiftly the electric winch dropped the nacelle, containing three men. It slowed, at their command, through the phone that led up the wire. With hardly a jar, the basket landed on the roof. The men jumped out, made fast their tackles to Captain Alden's plane there, leaped in again and signaled: "Hoist away!" With noiseless speed the winch gathered in the cable. Up swooped the nacelle. As it cleared the roof, _Nissr_ purred forward, slid away, gathered speed over the city where already the alarm had been given.