anded
him an envelope, said, "No answer," and departed.

Larner tore open the envelope lazily. He read and then re-read its
contents, while a look of puzzled surprise disturbed his usually placid
countenance. He spread the sheet of paper out on his desk, and for the
tenth time he read:

Confidential.

Memorize this address and destroy this paper:

Tula Bela, 1726 88th Street, West, City of Hesper, Republic of
Pana, Planet Venus.

Will meet you in the Frying Pan.

That was all. It was enough. Larner lost his temper. He crumpled the
paper and tossed it in the waste basket. He was not given to profanity,
but he could say "Judas Priest" in a way that sizzled.

"Judas Priest!" he spluttered. "Anyone who would send a man a crazy
bunch of nonsense like that, at a time like this, ought to be snuffed
out like a beetle!

"'Meet you in the Frying Pan,'" he quoted. Then he happened to recall
something. "By golly, there is a fishing district in Colorado known as
the Frying Pan. That's not so crazy, but the planet Venus part surely is
cuckoo."

He fished the paper out of the waste basket, found the envelope, placed
the strange message within and put it in his inside coat pocket. Then he
seized his suitcase and fishing tackle, and, rushing out, hailed a taxi.
Not long after he was on his way west by plane.

* * * * *

As the country unrolled under him he retrieved the strange note from his
pocket. He read it again and again. Then he examined the envelope. It
was an ordinary one of good quality, designed for business rather than
social usage. The note paper appeared quite different. It was unruled,
pure white, and of a texture which might be described as pebbly. It was
strongly made, and of a nature unlike any paper Larner had ever seen
before. It appeared to have been made from a fiber rather than a pulp.

"Wonder who wrote it?" Larner asked himself. "It is beautiful
handwriting, masculine yet artistic. Wonder where he got the Frying Pan
idea? At any rate, I'm not going to the Frying Pan this year--I'm
camping on Tennessee Creek, in Lake County, Colorado. The country there
is more beautiful and restful.

"But this street address on the planet Venus. Seems to me I read
somewhere that Marconi had received mysterious signals that he believed
came from the planet Venus. Hesper, Hesper ... it sounds familiar,
somehow. Wonder if there could be anything to it?"

Something