brains of the firm, but had not kept up on his science, andalways took his colleagues' word on technical matters.
For a while, he remained silent, his saturnine face grave with thought."By thunder," he finally broke out, "I'm not going to let myself diejust yet--not when I've got the world in my hands! There's one manwho'll be able to help out with that damned Deflector."
"Who's your genius?" sneered Malvine.
"Well, who but this fellow Holcomb?"
"Holcomb?"
"Of course. He's harmless now--but useless--in his undergroundstoreroom. I'm for taking him out--under proper supervision. He'll knowhow to use the Deflector, if any man does!"
Hogarth's gloom relaxed a bit. "Good!" he approved. "Can't do any harmto try. We've got to make damned sure, though, he doesn't get loose orcommunicate with his friends. I'd a thousand times rather shoot him likea yellow dog!"
Wiley chuckled; and the hands of all three conspirators shot out inagreement.
* * * * *
Dan's face was pale after his long confinement. His cheeks were sunken,and had the smoldering look of deep suffering. But there was scorn inhis manner as he faced his persecutors.
"Yes, that's the story," Wiley was reiterating. "Guess we're not quiteon to the ropes. If you'll work a little at the Deflector--"
Dan glared at his tormentors, his eyes kindled with a fierce blueglitter. His chin was outthrust, but his manner was quiet as he replied,after a moment's hesitation, "Show me to the laboratory!"
Wiley arose, and prepared to lead the way.
"We'll give you one week!" he stipulated. "Exactly one week! By then,we'll expect you to show results!"
After being escorted blindfolded to a secret laboratory, Dan laboredincessantly. He would pretend to obey the Triumvirs, while actuallydoing all he could to oppose them! But in the beginning, he had toconfess to himself, his position looked nearly hopeless. Eagerly hesearched for some possible means of escape--some way of signalling theoutside world. But two armed guards stood watching just beyond the onlydoor.
His most pressing thought was to get word to his wife--not only torelieve her terrible anxiety, but to plot with her his escape. He had,naturally, been denied access to a telephone; yet he would not let thisbalk him. Deftly making use of the electrical gear and headphones of ahalf dismantled shortwave radio receiver which he had found in thelaboratory, he set about to tap the wires in a remote corner where, henoted, a telephone connection had formerly been. Meanwhile he wascareful to keep as wide a distance as possible between him and theguards.
To prevent them from hearing his voice when he had tapped the wire, heset a particularly noisy motor in operation close to the door. Then,trembling with eagerness, he spoke through his improvised speakingapparatus. To his delight, he heard an answering, "Number, please!" Histones were jerky with excitement as he gave his home number. But, amoment later, his joy froze within him.
Across the wire there came a sickening, "The line has been disconnected,sir!" And in response to his quavering inquiry, all he could get was,"No, sir, they mentioned no other number to call."
He was just about to give another number--that of a friend who might beable to supply information about Lucile--when he felt a heavy hand onone shoulder, and looked up into the angry eyes of his guards.
"None of that, young man!" bawled one jailer, while the other snatchedup the telephone equipment. "I thought you were up to some mischief! Getback to work!"
Two rubber truncheons came down upon Dan's defenseless flesh as, with agroan, he struggled back to his bench.
* * * * *
As late August shivered toward September, the world's state became stillmore terrifying. Whirlwinds rushed more severely than ever through thedarkening skies; blizzards raged, and a mantle of white covered thenorthern United States; agriculture and industry had virtually ceased;and men passed their time in mumbling prayers, in making wild, fruitlessstudies of the heavens, and in the sodden forgetfulness of dissipation.
Dan, however, knew nothing of all this as he labored in his hiddenlaboratory. Working once more at the Deflector, in the desire to savethe earth from freezing, he had made a discovery--one which, as hetoiled, had darkened his face with lines of discouragement thatgradually gave place to horror. And in the end he had sagged down,exhausted, with bloodshot eyes and drooping limbs ... oppressed with anightmare realization.
During the weeks of his imprisonment, the earth had moved millions ofmiles farther from the sun. And the strength of telurox, lessening withthe inverse square of the distance, was insufficient to cover the gap.It was beyond his power to make up the difference. Unless a miracleintervened, the earth was doomed!
Nevertheless, was there not just the remotest hope?--possibly a chancein a million? If only he could gain control of a larger laboratory, withcapable assistants, he might try a certain newly conceived experiment.But to ask his captors to provide such a laboratory would be to puthimself and the earth even more hopelessly in their power.
Instead, his thoughts kept wandering in another direction. If he couldonce get into touch with his wife, she might be able to help him! Butwhere was she now? Somewhere in hiding? Or imprisoned by the Triumvirs?Yet if she were still at liberty, was there not a means by which hemight still communicate with her? He recalled how, during their yearstogether at Columbia Chemicals, they had worked out a secret code, bywhich they could tap out love messages on the walls. Could this code notbe used over the radio? Could he not transmit signals over variouswave-lengths, so that sooner or later--if she still listened to theradio--she would recognize his message?
At any rate, he would try. Hoping to ward off suspicion, he pretended towork at a Cosmic Deflector which, telescope-shaped and two feet inthickness, reached from floor to ceiling. Within this great tube heconcealed a small radio transmitter which he had hastily contrived, outof the abundant electrical equipment of the Deflector. Its power, heknew, would be limited, but it could be heard well enough locally. Bymeans of a device resembling an electric bell, he was able to transmitsignals, on a dot and dash system. So rapidly did he work that, after afew hours, this novel broadcaster was sending out its rat-tat-tat.
His next step was to repair the half dismantled radio receiver. Thistask completed, he began to tap out signals, "Lucile! Lucile! Hear me! Iam imprisoned by the Triumvirs! Follow my directions, and we may stillsave the world!"
Time after time--hundreds of times--he repeated this message. Was he butplaying a fool's game? So he asked himself as the hours stretched out;as the days dragged past and still no answer came. Was he not wastinghis efforts while the earth whirled to its doom?
* * * * *
It was on the fourth day of the experiment. Pale with anxiety andfatigue, Dan still tapped out his messages; still listened at the radio.Suddenly he stood up, with a start. What was that sound he heard? Thatanswering tap, tap, tap? Three shorts and a long--three shorts and along! In their code, what did that mean? "Where are you? Tell me, whereare you?" Or had he counted the signals wrongly. In desperate eagerness,he stood listening. Now there came two longs and a short; then a shortand two longs--
"Well, old man, how's the work going?"
Dan was so shocked that he leapt back several feet. Not more than a yardaway, leering with a horse-like grin, was the face of Wiley! And just inthe background, devilishly gaping, were Hogarth and Malvine.
Dan's first thought was that the enemy knew what he was about, and hadcome to mock him at the moment of his seeming success.
"Well, how's she going?" Wiley reiterated. "Any progress?"
With an effort, Dan snapped out of his stupefied silence. "Oh, she'spromising very well," he managed to say.
Through the radio, with maddening insistency, came the rat-tat-tat of amessage. It was impossible, under the circumstances, to record ortranslate it! The thought flashed over Dan that he had been tricked;that the message came from the Triumvirs, who were now enjo
ying hisdiscomfiture!
"What's that damned noise?" Hogarth demanded, as if to lend confirmationto this theory.
Reaching for a secret switch, Dan snapped off the radio. Only a cleverbluff, he knew, could save him now!
"Oh, it's only the magnified sound of the impact of the gravitationalrays upon the Deflector," he lied, glibly, still hoping against hope."In other words, the vibrational impetus of--"
"To hell with your long-winded explanations!" Wiley cut him short,impatiently. "What we want to know is, what progress have you made? Anysign of getting the earth back in place?"
"Time we gave you is about up!" said Malvine. "If you're not gettingresults, better turn things over to some one