She grasped the propeller--it resisted her touch with hard and absolute inflexibility.
All at once a low deep voice spoke close to her ear-- "Do not try to steer.

You cannot proceed." Her heart gave one wild bound,--then almost stood still from sheer terror.

She felt herself swaying into unconsciousness, and made a violent effort to master the physical weakness that threatened her.
That voice--what voice?
Surely one evoked from her own imagination! It spoke again--this time with an intonation that was exquisitely soothing and tender.
"Why are you afraid?
For you there is nothing to fear!" She raised her eyes and looked about nervously.

The soft luminance which lit the "White Eagle's" interior from end to end showed nothing new or alarming,--her dainty, rose-lined cabin held no strange or supernatural visitant,--all was as usual.

After a pause she rallied strength enough to question the audible but invisible intruder.
"Who is it that speaks to me ?" she asked, faintly.
"One from the city below,"-- was the instant reply given in full clear accents--"I am speaking on the Sound Ray." She held her breath in mute wonder, listening.