zaire, the steamer ready to start, and victory for the
scoundrel....

He laughed at the idea. As if there could be a question of any victory
but his, the victory of the falcon over its prey, the victory of the
flying bird over the game that runs afoot! Not for a second did he
entertain the thought that the enemy might have slunk away by taking
another road.

There are some certainties that are equivalent to facts. And this one
was so great that it seemed to him that his adversaries were obliged
to comply with it. The car was travelling along the road to Nantes.
It would cover an average of twenty miles an hour. And as he himself
was travelling at the rate of sixty miles, the encounter would take
place at the spot named, Les Ponts-de-Drive, and at the hour named,
twelve o'clock.

A cluster of houses, a huge castle, towers, steeples: Angers....

Don Luis asked Davanne the time. It was ten minutes to twelve.

Already Angers was a vanished vision. Once more the open country, broken
up with many-coloured fields. Through it all, a road.

And, on that road, a yellow motor.

The yellow motor! The brute's motor! The motor with Florence Levasseur!

Don Luis's joy contained no surprise. He knew so well that this was bound
to happen!

Davanne turned round and cried:

"That's the one, isn't it?"

"Yes, go straight for them."

The airship dipped through space and caught up the car almost at once.
Then Davanne slowed his engine and kept at six hundred feet above the car
and a little way behind.

From here they made out all the details. The driver was seated on the
left. He wore a gray cap with a black peak. It was one of the deep-yellow
taxis of the Compagnie des Cometes. It was the taxi which they were
pursuing. And Florence was inside with her abductor.

"At last," thought Don Luis, "I have them!"

They flew for some time, keeping the same distance.

Davanne waited for a signal which Don Luis was in no hurry to give. He
was revelling in the sensation of his power, with a force made up of
mingled pride, hatred, and cruelty. He was indeed the eagle hovering
overhead with its talons itching to rend live flesh. Escaped from the
cage in which he had been imprisoned, released from the bonds that
fastened him, he had come all the way at full flight and was ready to
swoop upon the helpless prey.

He lifted himself in his seat and gave Davanne his instructions:

"Be careful," he said, "not to brush too close by them. T