moments. Then he said, "All right, show him in."

Joshua Lake entered the office with his hat in one hand and a briefcase in the other. He paused halfway to Gorman's desk. "You haven't changed much, Lee."

"You have," Gorman answered. "You look like the devil."

"I've been working hard." Joshua Lake covered the intervening distance and stood before the desk. Gorman surveyed him coldly—up and down. Joshua looked around the office as Gorman sat silent, not inviting him to sit down.

"You've done very well, Lee. This is the first time I've seen your plant."

"I've expanded a little since my basement days. You remember my basement days, don't you Joshua?"

Joshua winced. "Yes, I remember."

"And now you might tell me the purpose of this visit."

"I came to you because I need money."

Gorman's eyes snapped open—wide. He opened his mouth to speak. He failed, tightened his throat and tried again. "You came here after what?"

"Money. I'm broke, Lee. I haven't enough to meet my payroll."

"You expect me to bail you out—clean up your debts—put you clear?"

"I came after more than that. Merely bailing me out wouldn't help a bit. I need three hundred thousand to put my rocket in the air."

Gorman collapsed gently back into his chair like a balloon mercifully relieved of some of its content. When he spoke, it was with a slow, controlled viciousness. "I've heard of guts, Joshua. I've heard of gall—plain unmitigated nerve. But this tops anything—why, man, you threw me out! You robbed me! You left me standing in the street with a bookful of names and addresses under my arm—nothing more. Now you come here and ask for money!"

"I'm glad you've done well, Lee. There was nothing personal in what I did. I'm glad you've gone on to even bigger things than we would have achieved together."

"You're glad I've done well! Why, you pious hypocrite! I ought to have you thrown through the window instead of merely ordering you out!"

"There is no reason why I should expect any better treatment, Lee. But I had to come here. You were my last hope. I had to ask."

Joshua turned slowly from the desk. He had taken but three steps when Lee Gorman said, "Wait a minute. I'm curious. Are you really still at it—beating your brains out against that stone wall?"

"It's my dream, Lee. I've got to be the first man to put a rocket on the moon."

"But now you're broke—washed up. What's with the dream now?"

"I guess it's finished." Joshua turned and took another step; but Gorman was loath to let him go.

"Tell me," Gorman said. "What have you got in that briefcase?"

"Progress reports. Plans. I wanted to show them to you."

Gorman grinned. "All right. I've got a few minutes. Come and do it."

Joshua Lake retraced his steps. He sat down in a chair next to Gorman's desk. He laid his hat on the desk and snapped open the case.

"No," Gorman said. "Stand here by my elbow. The chair is for people I meet on even terms."

Joshua got obediently to his feet and placed himself as directed.

"And your hat," Gorman added. "You'd better hold that. You might forget it when you leave."

"Of course, Lee."

It was a ludicrous, pitiful sight but, withal, a grim note ran through the scene. Joshua supporting the case against his thigh, got out a sheaf of papers. "These are the progress reports to date. These, the projected plans."

"And when these plans are carried out you expect success?"

"Yes. Great foresight has been used. They will carry us through."

"And you expect me to loan you money on the strength of this—this day-dreaming on paper?"

"It's far more than that, Lee. You'll find the plans sound."

Lee Gorman didn't give a tinker's hoot for the plans. He was only enjoying an interview—a vengeance—he was loath to terminate. "You haven't even begun to show me what I'd need before I even considered loaning you a dime."

"I'll bring you