"I'll have to go inside now, Fred," she said. "If you want to wait for
Gaddon, have a seat. It shouldn't be long." She started to turn in at a door marked private, when Fred pulled her
gently around and before she could stop him, had kissed her. "I was getting mighty jealous of Brutus. Now I feel better." "I don't know which of you I prefer," she shot back, then smiled and
pulled away from him. He watched her open the office door and close it after her. *       *       *       *       *

He had lit his second cigarette and gotten halfway through his third
magazine on the rack beside the chair when the office door opened again. He heard the pleasant voice of Dr. Stanley Fenwick. "If every man had a heart as strong as yours, Blair, we wouldn't need
half the doctors we have." Then he heard the deep, gruff voice of Dr. Blair Gaddon half laugh. "Thanks a lot, Fenwick. You've taken a load off my mind. Goodbye, Miss
Drake." He heard Joan reply and then saw Dr. Fenwick usher the physicist out
into the hall. Trent rose as the two men approached. "Why, hello, Trent," Dr. Fenwick said. Trent nodded at the tall, white-coated figure of the famous gland
specialist. "Afternoon, doctor." Fenwick smiled at him. "Don't tell me you're waiting to see me?" Fred shook his head. "Not exactly. I was waiting to see Dr. Gaddon
though. I was on my way out to the Proving Grounds and I happened to
stop by and talk to Miss Drake." He turned to the physicist, a bulky man
with firm, hard features, who moved his large body with an almost
cat-like grace. "I hope you don't mind, Dr. Gaddon. Possibly I can give you a lift back
out to the Base. I'm covering the launching for my paper." Gaddon smiled at him. "But of course I don't mind. And I'll take you up
on that offer. It'll save me a trip back to town to take one of the
staff cars." *       *       *       *       *

The words had a friendly note to them, as did the smile on Gaddon's
face. And yet, somehow, Fred Trent found that he did not like this man. It was nothing he could put his finger on, nothing he could rationalize,
unless it was the coldly calculating look in the scientist's eyes. "That's fine, doctor," Trent replied. "Shall we go?" He turned and said good-bye to Fenwick and passed a smiling glance at
the girl. He could see her blush slightly as Fenwick caught the glance
and laughed. Then they were out of the house and Trent led the way to
his car. Inside, he started the motor and drove away. Beside him, Gaddon lit a
cigar and blew a long plume of smoke through the open window. "You said you wanted to talk to me, Trent?" Fred nodded. "That's right, doctor. I'm writing up the rocket experiment
for my paper, and I thought maybe you could give me a few details of
interest." He paused for a moment, then asked: "Would it be too personal
to ask if your visit to Dr. Fenwick had anything to do with the coming
experiment?" Gaddon shot a quick glance at him. "Why do you ask that?" Fred Trent shrugged. "It was just a thought. I heard Dr. Fenwick talking
about your heart, but you look pretty healthy to me, so I thought maybe
it was because Fenwick is a gland specialist and you might be talking to
him about examining the cat after the rocket returns ..."

Gaddon laughed roughly. "A mighty clever reasoning, Trent, but not quite
correct. The fact is, I was seeing the doctor for personal reasons. Just
a physical checkup. It had nothing to do with the rocket experiment or
the effect of the cosmic rays on the animal we're including in the
experiment." "It was just a thought, doctor," Trent replied, as he moved the coupe
out on the open highway away from Tucson and toward the Rocket Proving
Grounds on the desert flats in the distance. "So now that we've disposed of that, what else would you like to know?" Gaddon asked him, a peculiar edge to his voice that Trent did not miss. "Well, I would like to get a first hand bit of information on just
exactly what you plan to prove with this experiment. If I'm correct, Dr.
Mathieson, the head of the project, contends that cosmic rays may be
lethal, and this experiment is to prove his point." The physicist snorted. "It is no secret that Mathieson and myself
disagree violently on that subject." Trent's eyebrows raised. "Is that so? I wasn't aware of it?" Gaddon paused, seeing that his words had slipped out too freely. Finally
he said, "What I meant to say, Trent, is that up until now it has not
been a public issue of disagreement. And I would prefer to have it
remain a private matter until after the experiment." "I see," Trent mused. "You have my word that I won't print anything you
say without your permission. But just what is the difference of opinion
between you and Mathieson?" Gaddon took a long pull at his cigar and waited a few moments before
replying. It was apparent to Trent that he was debating continuing the
subject with a newspaperman. But Trent had gauged the man correctly. There was a flair of vanity in Gaddon that dated back to his English
ancestry. Trent remembered that Gaddon, quite a figure in English
scientific circles, had created a stir when he had come over to the
United States to assist in rocket research at the Arizona proving
grounds. It seemed that Gaddon had not wanted to take a back seat to the
famed American scientist, Mathieson. It had made a few gossip columns in
the newspapers before Washington put an official clamp on the matter. *       *       *       *       *

Now, as Trent waited for the Englishman to reply, he could almost sense
the thoughts that were going through Gaddon's mind. The Englishman was
debating whether to take an open stand against the viewpoints of his
American colleague. But Trent felt that the British stubbornness in the
man would make him reveal his own theories. Especially since Trent had
already promised not to print anything without Gaddon's permission. That
would give him an opportunity to gloat safely, should his own ideas be
proven correct. "Very well, Trent, I'll take you at your professional word to keep this
matter confidential. But if what I contend is correct, you'll have a big
story to tell." Trent waited expectantly, not wanting to break the Englishman's train of
thought. "The fact is, Trent, that Mathieson is all wrong. To go even further,
most of your American scientists don't have the haziest idea of exactly
what the cosmic rays are. We in Britain have made quite exhaustive
studies of the phenomena." Trent didn't bother to argue with him. He only nodded his head. It would
have been silly, he knew, to contradict Gaddon, to tell him that the
English didn't know a thing more about the cosmic rays than the American
scientists, that American science had made, and was continually making,
exhaustive research into that scientific field of study on as great if
not more so a scale than Britain could possibly achieve. It was only
Gaddon's vanity talking, Trent knew, so he let him put in the barb of
ridicule, waiting.