"Thy magic is good magic.

Give me thy salt, Frank, and take mine!" The Master signaled to Brodeur as he drew forth his bag of salt.

He stretched it out in his open palm; and all at once, bag, hand, and arm up to the elbow enveloped themselves in a whirling mist and vanished from sight, even as the Master's whole body had vanished in the cabin when Leclair had tried to arrest him.
The Sheik's eyes grew white-rimmed with astonishment.

Vaguely he groped for the Frank's hand, then let his own fall limp.
"_Allahu akbar!_" he gasped.
The Master nodded at Brodeur.

The droning of the apparatus ceased, and again the hand became visible.
"Faith!" the major's voice was heard.