perhaps a cable's length to the northeast. We could scarcely hear
even now the faint throbbing of its engines. Perhaps they had stopped
and the boat was only gliding forward under their previous impulse.

It seemed, then, that this was indeed the submarine which Wells had
watched, and it was returning to pass this night, like the last,
within the shelter of the creek.

Why had it left the anchorage, if only to return? Had it suffered
some new disaster, which again impaired its power? Or had it been
before compelled to leave, with its repairs still unfinished? What
cause constrained it to return here? Was there some imperious reason
why it could no longer be turned into an automobile, and go darting
away across the roads of Ohio?

To all these questions which came crowding upon me, I could give no
answer. Furthermore both Wells and I kept reasoning under the
assumption that this was really the "Terror" commanded by the "Master
of the World" who had dated from it his letter of defiance to the
government. Yet this premise was still unproven, no matter how
confident we might feel of it.

Whatever boat this was, that stole so softly through the night, it
continued to approach us. Assuredly its captain must know perfectly
the channels and shores of Black Rock Creek, since he ventured here
in such darkness. Not a light showed upon the deck. Not a single ray
from within the cabin glimmered through any crevice.

A moment later, we heard some machinery moving very softly. The swell
of the eddies grew stronger, and in a few moments the boat touched