ching in vain. They could encounter
nothing, see nothing of the invader.

Thus passed a morning of growing tension.

But by noon of that day, with a bare twenty-four hours left before
the expiration of the ultimatum, the disc came down, showed itself
boldly.

There followed stunning disasters.

One salvo, and the ray shot down--the Atlantic Fleet, the pride of
America, burst and melted in flaming hell. Squadrons of planes,
carrying tons of bombs, frizzled like moths in the air. Mighty
projectiles hurled by land batteries were deflected off on wild
trajectories.

Appalled, the nation and the world followed in lurid extras these
crushing defeats.

By nightfall of that day, all seemed lost. All opposition had been
obliterated. America must capitulate or perish. It had until the next
noon to decide which.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, in that great Brooklyn laboratory, Kendrick was working
against time, besieged by frantic delegations of the nation's leaders.
They knew now that their one hope lay in him. Was he succeeding? Was
there even any hope?

Face haggard, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, he waved them away,
went on with his work.

"I will tell you--as soon as I know."

That was all he would say.

Followed a night that was the blackest in all history, though the
myriad stars of heaven shone tauntingly brilliant in the summer sky.

At length, as dawn was breaking. Kendrick paused in his labors.

"There!" he said, grimly, surveying an apparatus that seemed to
involve the entire facilities of the laboratory. "It is done! Now
then--will it work?"

The delegation were called to witness the test.

Henderson Blake was among them, as was Marjorie. She stepped forward,
as he prepared to make the demonstration.

"I _know_, somehow, you're going to be successful!" she murmured,
pressing his hand, meeting his eyes with a smile of confidence.

"I hope you're right--Marjorie!" he replied, letting slip the last
word almost unconsciously.

Her face colored warmly as the stepped back and rejoined her father.

Kendrick's heart was beating fast as he turned to his instruments. How
could he fail, with faith like that behind him?--love, even, perhaps!
He mustn't fail--nor would he, if his theories were sound.

* * * * *

Addressing the assemblage, he explained briefly the complicated
apparatus.

"These towers," he said, pointing to four steel structur