"A toast first!" he cried. Soberly, he gazed at his glass. "To Man," he
pronounced momentously, "and the Stars." He took a sizable swallow, then
fixed me with a feverish glare.
"_Go!_"
I confess that never, before or since, have I felt such a strange
sensation as when I pushed the button on the belt. Suddenly, I felt like
a leaf, or a feather, floating on a soft warm curl of cloud. It was as
if all the troubles, all the cares of the world had been miraculously
lifted from my shoulders. A glow of well-being seemed to pulse through
my whole body.
The sound of Professor Burdinghaugh's voice brought an abrupt end to
this strange lightness of mind. The Professor was pointing at me with an
intensity I rarely before have seen, muttering, "It works--_it works!_"
He seemed rather amazed.
I looked down and, with a feeling I can only describe as giddiness, saw
that indeed it _was_ working. I was rising slowly from the ground and
was then about a foot in the air.
At this historical juncture, we looked at each other for a moment, then
began to laugh as success rushed to our heads. The Professor even did a
mad little jig while, for my part, I gyrated in the air unrestrained.
It was not until I was about ten feet off the ground that I began to
feel uneasy. I was never one to stomach high altitudes, you might
recall, and the sight of ten feet of emptiness beneath me was
disquieting.
"Professor," I asked hesitantly, "how do I turn off the belt?"
Burdinghaugh's glass stopped an inch from his lips. "Turn it off?" he
countered thickly.
"_Yes!_" I shouted, now fifteen feet in the air. "How do I turn it off?
How do I get down?"
The Professor gazed up at me thoughtfully. "My boy," he said at last, "I
never thought about getting down--been much too concerned with getting
jolly well _up_."
[Illustration]
"_Burdinghaugh!_" I screamed. "Get me _down_!" I was now twenty feet
above the ground.
"I'm sorry, old boy, dreadfully sorry," he called to me. "I can't. But
don't think your life will have been spent in vain. Indeed not! I'll see
to it that you get proper credit as my assistant when the anti-gravity
belt is perfected. You've been invaluable, dear boy, invaluable!" His
voice faded.
"_Professor!_" I screamed futilely, but by then we were too far apart to
make ourselves heard and, even as I wasted my breath, a gust of wind
caught me and sent me soaring into the air, spinning like a top. But,
just before I entered a cloud, I saw the Professor standing far below,
his feet planted wide apart, his head thrown back while he watched my
progress. I fancied that, as I disappeared into the mist, he waved a
solemn good-by and drank my health.
You can't imagine the torture I went through as I sailed through the
air. During those first few moments, I had felt light, carefree,
buoyant. But, in these higher altitudes, I was buffeted by strong winds,
pelted by rain in enormous quantities and subjected to sudden drops that
had me gasping. How I managed to survive, I can't understand. Surely, I
would have died if I had floated completely out of the atmosphere but,
luckily, the belt's power to lift me leveled off at about 10,000 feet.
For days, I drifted at that altitude, blown willy-nilly by the contrary
winds, starved and bitterly cold. Several times, I tried to steer
myself--but to no avail. I was powerless to control my flight. My sense
of direction left me and I had no idea where I was. Sometimes, I would
look down through a rift in the clouds and see farmland, or perhaps
cities. Once I glimpsed the sea--and shut my eyes.
It was not until the sixth day of my flight that I noticed a change. I
was sinking. Slowly but steadily, I was losing altitude. I was at a loss
to explain this phenomenon at first, but then I remembered that the
Professor had said the belt was powered by batteries. Obviously, the
batteries were weakening.
A few hours later, I landed gently, only a few blocks from where I had
started my unwilling flight. During those six frightful days, I must
have been blown around in circles. Weak, starved, shaken, sick, I was
taken to a hospital, from which I have just been released. Needless to
say, I immediately tried to locate Professor Burdinghaugh, but have been
unable to find a trace of him. You might say he has disappeared into
thin air.
You must be wondering, of course, what this singular adventure has to do
with my not writing you earlier. However, I feel certain you understand
now that writing was impossible under the circumstances.
All the ink in my fountain pen leaked out when I reached the altitude of
10,000 feet--I have the kind of pen that writes under water--and I had
to put my pencil between my teeth to keep them from chattering and
knocking out my inlays. During my stay at the hospital, of course, I
couldn't write, as I was too weak even to flirt with the nurses--which,
as you know, is very weak indeed.
So, please forgive my unfortunate lapse in correspondence. Truly, I
would have written, had it been possible.
Devotedly,
Roger
P.S. I resent your implication that I am engaged to you only because of
your money. The fact that you are extremely wealthy and that I have
virtually nothing, as I have told you many times before, never has and
never will have anything to do with my love for you. I'm particularly
hurt by your suspicion that I'd spend your money on other women. Really,
I'm shocked that such a thing could even occur to you. And, now that you
know why I haven't written before, I trust you'll restore my draw on
your account at the bank. My funds are rather low.