then the rocket gave a lurch.

Deep within his mind he knew that the instrument section had been released from the main body of the projectile, and even now he knew the sealed chamber was falling back toward the earth, back toward the atmosphere where the parachute would take hold and drift the chamber safely down to the Arizona soil.

And a dread closed over him in that moment. Back to the men. Back to the things of men. Back he must go, a mewing thing that was not a man. A thing that he felt was taking hold of him, driving the last vestige of human instinct from him.

He fought it. He fought it mewing on the floor of the rocket chamber.

"He must have gone mad!"

Fred Trent pulled his gaze from the sky and looked with stunned eyes at the figure of Dr. Mathieson standing beside him. The scientist was trembling with an inner feeling, and his head was shaking in disbelief.

"Gaddon! The man is going to his death! It's insane!"

Again Mathieson's voice broke the silence in the huddled group of men. Then the newspapermen came to life and excited talk became a jabber of words around them. Trent took the arm of Mathieson and turned him. He tried to lead the scientist away from the newspapermen but one of them stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

"But why did he do it, doctor? The man must have had a reason!"

Mathieson shook his head numbly.

"I—I don't know, unless ..." his voice trailed off for a moment and then he spoke again. "Unless he really believed what he said ..."

"What did he say, doctor?" the newsman asked.

There was a puzzled note to Mathieson's voice as he answered.

"He disagreed with me on the supposed effects of the cosmic rays. It has been my contention that they are of lethal effect, and Gaddon maintained that I was wrong. He kept insisting that they were a source of life energy. That was why we decided to experiment with an animal—to see what effect the rays would have on a living creature ...

"But this! I never dreamed of such a possibility—to prove his point he signed his own death warrant!"

"That's a story, doctor, a real story!"

Trent heard the newsman exclaim excitedly. And then it came to him that the real story was as yet untold. The real story that had been unfolded in his car earlier that day.

Fred moved suddenly away from the clamor of the newsmen around the scientist. He knew what he had to do.

He hurried across the ground to his waiting coupe outside the Administration building. Then he got behind the wheel and started the motor.

He drove to the gate and waited until the guard passed him through, then he turned up the road toward Tucson.

As he drove he felt an odd tenseness sweep through him. For he was thinking of what Gaddon had said on the drive up to the Proving Grounds. He was remembering the man's words on the cosmic rays and the secret of eternal life they held. And Fred Trent knew that this was the biggest story. The story that he alone held. It was the big break that he had been waiting for. It would be his exclusive. The inside, personal story of a man who had died to prove his theory. Told as Gaddon himself had related it. With all the vanity of the man, all the pompous assurance he had shown. It would make the headlines and feature sections all over the country. The story of a man who had flown to his death in quest of immortality.

And then Trent's thoughts grew sober suddenly. But was he going to his death? Could he be sure that Mathieson was right? That Gaddon was suffering from some streak of insanity that had manifested itself in this final venture of madness? Or could it be that Gaddon might be right, that ...

Trent set his lips and sighed. No, that couldn't be true. It was beyond the comprehension of man.

What mattered now was the story. The story that would put his name in a thousand papers all over the country. And he thought in that moment of Joan Drake. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he thought of her. This would force her to quit her job now and marry him. The one condition she had made—he had finally overcome.

He thought of the date he was supposed to have with her that evening. It would have to be postponed until later. The story came first. And then ...

He drove his car swiftly through the outskirts of the city and into the main part of town. Then he pulled up before the offices of the Tucson Star and left his car at the curb.

He entered the building, took the elevator to his floor and walked into the city room. The clatter of typewriters met his ears and the sound was sweet to him in that moment.

He crossed swiftly to his desk and sat dawn. Then he motioned to a copy boy. The boy came up to his desk.

"Jerry, tell the chief to hold up the form on page one. I've got a special—an accident out at the Proving Grounds. Headline copy."

The youth hurried away toward the office of the City Editor, and Fred picked up his phone and dialed a number. He waited a moment and then the voice of Joan Drake came across the wire.

"Dr. Fenwick's office."

"Joan, this is Fred."

The girl's voice laughed across the wire. "Don't tell me you're planning to break our date? Just when I get all dressed up."

A smile crossed Trent's lips. "You're almost psychic, honey. Fact is, I was calling to tell you I'll be a little late."

There was a pause and when the girl spoke again there was an injured note in her voice.

"Well, that's a fine thing. I wait here deliberately after hours for you to pick me up and now you tell me you'll be late! Just what's so more important than me right now?"

"I haven't got time to tell you now, Joan, but believe me, I've got the break of the year. A story that will rock the front pages across the country. I'll tell you all about it later. You can wait at Fenwick's place. He won't mind, will he?"

He could hear the girl sniff on the other end of the wire.

"I don't suppose he will, but I don't think I can say the same for myself."

"That's a good girl," Trent laughed. "Just wait for me. It may be an hour or so—"

"An hour or so! What are you writing, the great American novel?"

He looked up and saw the frowning face of the City Editor approaching his desk. He spoke hurriedly.

"I've got to sign off now. The boss is coming up. I'll see you later. Give my regards to Brutus."

He replaced the phone as the editor reached his desk.

"What's all this about a remake on the front page, Trent?"

Fred nodded. "That's right, chief. The biggest story since the atom bomb. Listen!"

He gave a short account of what had happened, and then added the personal details of his talk with Gaddon. He saw the eyes of the editor widen as he went on, and by the time he had finished, there was a look of excitement on the editor's face.

"Get to that story, Trent. Write it hot, and write it fast. I'll hold the first form and tear down the front page. Stress the human interest angle. Play it up big. We'll hit the news wires with it after we go to press."

Then a smile crossed the editor's face. "And you'll get a by-line on this, Trent, that ought to put you in for some big money. Nice work."

Then he turned on his heel and was hurrying across the city room toward his glassed-in office, hollering for a copy boy as he went.

Trent turned back to his desk and slipped a sheet of paper into his typewriter. There was a tenseness around his eyes as he brought his fingers down on the keys. For a moment the old questions rose again in his mind. Was Gaddon right? Could it be possible that ...

Then he forgot everything but the story. And his fingers clicked against the keys, putting it down on paper.

The rocket chamber swayed gently through the night air, whistling its way slowly downward, moving more slowly as the