Jones halted the scoutplane. “The battleplanes,” he said, pointing. “They are posted nightly around London now. You know the reason, David?” David started and placed his hand in inquiry upon the airscout’s shoulder. Jones’s voice sank to a whisper. “It is the merest rumor among our men,” he said. “One reads it in their faces rather than hears it spoken, for we are afraid of one another. One can be sure that Sanson has his spies among us. But the scoutplanes are sufficient to patrol London and detect fugitives, and if the battleplanes are sent out there is hope the rumor may be true. If the Tsar has broken out from Tula—” “Thank God!” said David in a tense whisper. “He will overrun Skandogermania in a week, for it is as disaffected as Britain. The airscouts there will go over to him. There is no force to stop him, except our planes and the Guard.” I saw the joy on David’s face. Could barbarous Russia indeed bring freedom to the Western World? “It is only a rumor,” continued Jones. “A rumor, you understand, David, backed by the presence of the battleplane squadron around the city nightly, words let fall in the People’s House, retailed by gossiping servants, the sudden summons last night of Air-Admiral Hancock—” “But the Russians have been slaughtered in thousands!” I exclaimed. “I saw the picture upon the screen.” Jones laughed and David smiled. “Those pictures are for the people,” said the airscout. “They were taken by night inside the fortress here. The Guard dressed for the part.” “Still, how could the Russians win without the Ray?” asked David doubtfully. “I can answer that,” I said. “All history shows that no weapon is strong enough to conquer men who are ready to die for a right idea against an evil one. Ideas are stronger than the deadliest arm man has contrived. That has always been so and always will be so.” Again Elizabeth’s hand crept into mine. “You must tell our people that, Arnold,” she said. “You know the secret of stirring them.” “But Hancock will stand by Lembken?” inquired David. “Yap, and will hold at least a quarter of our men to him,” said Jones. “He will serve Lembken through Sanson, so long as Sanson remains loyal. If Sanson turns against Lembken to seize the supreme power, Hancock will fight him to the death. Sanson sent the Air-Admiral’s son to the Rest Cure as a moron, years ago, when Hancock was unknown. Sanson doesn’t remember it, but Hancock remembers.” I shuddered. “Why, then, is not Hancock with us?” I asked. “There are traditions of loyalty in his family,” answered Jones. “Hancock is queer. Now we go up. Hold fast.”