know who I'm going to ask
about it."

The little doctor said nothing. His face was an embittered parchment
mask. "It's happened. God help me. It's happened. He's gone," he
muttered, almost inaudibly.

Donnelly sighed heavily, a look almost of defeat sweeping momentarily
across his features. "See here, Doc," he said exhaustedly. "Don't be so
heartless about people. You've got a son of your own in space, so you
ought to understand how other people feel. What kind of a father would
do a thing like this to another man's son anyway?"

"Look, Donnelly," said the little man with bitter weariness. "Do me a
favor will you? You fill out the reports tonight. Somehow or other I
just don't feel up to it."

"Maybe it's your conscience," said Donnelly, sarcastically. "But I'll be
damned if I'll do it for you. You don't like to do your own dirty work,
do you, Doc? I thought you just loved to fill out Government reports."

"Donnelly, Donnelly," cried the doctor in sudden anguish. "Can't you
understand yet. Even an undertaker's job is unpleasant but somebody's
got to do it. Don't you see yet? _It has to be done!_"

With a muffled groan of disgust, Donnelly sprang to the radio once
again, pushing Williams roughly aside. Futilely, and in desperation he
strained at the controls for a moment and then, with a roar of fury, he
turned back to the doctor.

"Now see here, Doc--" he thundered, and then stopped in amazement.

The door to the dim and ill-lighted outer hallway of the lab was
standing open. And at the far end, the outer door was quietly closing
behind the disappearing figure of the bent-shouldered little man.

Donnelly started to spring after him, and then abruptly stopped. His
huge figure slumped in sudden despairing futility as he recognized the
tragic hopelessness of the situation.

"Let him go," rasped Williams. "There's nothing we can do now anyway,
Joe."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's write the report up ourselves. That's real important,
you know. The Government needs it."

He sat down at the typewriter, his heavy features twisted in hopeless
bitterness and anger. He started typing, and then stopped for a moment.

"What was this kid pilot's full name, Williams?"

Williams checked the Government order sheet. "Hell," he said.
"Strangely, it's the same as the doctor's, Dr. Alfred Burnett. Only the
kid's name is Harold Burnett."

Donnelly sat, suddenly transfixed, staring at his typewriter. A peculiar
look flashed across hi