Several champagne glasses stood on the table, and one lay on its side, where perhaps a falling hand had overset it.
In one of the glasses, a few last, vagrant little bubbles were still rising from the tall, hollow stem.
"Hm!" grunted the Master contemptuously.

"Fools! Well--there'll be no alcohol aboard this craft!" He loosened the buckles of his rucksack, and cast the burden on one of the sofa-lockers.

The others did as much.
"Shall we stow the gear in our cabins ?" asked Bohannan, gesturing at the doors that led off the saloon.
"Not yet," answered the Master, glancing at the chronometer that hung beside the air-rules.

"Time enough to get settled, later.

Every second counts, now.