Tachometers gave from 2,750 to 2,875 r.p.m.
for the various propellers.

Speed had gone above 190 miles per hour.
No sign of man remained, save, very far below through a rift in the pale, moonlit waft of cloud, a tiny light against a coal-black plain of sea--the light of a slow, crawling steamer--a light which almost at once dropped far behind.
Vast empty spaces on all hands, above, below, engulfed _Nissr_.

The Master felt himself alone with air and sky, with power, with throbbing dreams and visions.
"If it can be done!" he repeated.

"But--there's no 'if' to it, at all.

It _can_ be! It _shall_! The biggest thing ever attempted in this world! A dream that's never been dreamed, before! And if it can't, well, a dream like that is far more than worth dying for.