Feeling himself in a kind of _impasse_ regarding Alden, and fearing some telltale expression in his eyes, the Master swung up his binoculars and once more swept the cloud-horizons from northeast to southeast.
"We ought to be sighting some of the attackers, before long," judged he.

"I'm rather curious to see them--to see flies attacking an eagle.
I haven't had a real chance of testing out the neutralizers.

Their operation, in actual practice, ought to be interesting." He tried to speak coldly, impersonally; but he well realized a certain strained quality in his voice.

Even now, in the hour of impending attack, his thoughts could not remain wholly fixed on the enemy which--so the wireless informed him--lay only a little beyond the haze-enshrouded, burning rim of cloudland.
Despite every effort of the will, he kept mentally reverting to the midships port stateroom containing the woman.

He could not keep himself from wondering how she was getting on.