nd the surge of a
galloping horse, thresh of waves and laughter of women and smooth
mysterious purr of great machines, with a fullness that made him pity
those deaf and dumb and blind around him.

Oh yes, he loved those things. He was in love with the whole turning
planet and the big skies overhead. It was a world of light and
strength and swift winds and it would be bitter to leave it. But Tighe
was locked in darkness.

He said slowly, "All we ever were was a research and educational
center, a sort of informal university specializing in the scientific
study of man. We're not any kind of political organization. You'd be
surprised how much we differ in our individual opinions."

"What of it?" shrugged Tyler. "This is something larger than politics.
Your work, if fully developed, would change our whole society, perhaps
the whole nature of man. We _know_ you've learned more things than
you've made public. Therefore you're reserving that information for
uses of your own."

"And you want it for your purposes?"

"Yes," said Tyler. After a moment, "I despise melodrama but if you
don't cooperate you're going to get the works. And we've got Tighe
too, never forget that. One of you ought to break down if he watches
the other being questioned."

_We're going to the same place! We're going to Tighe!_

The effort to hold face and voice steady was monstrous. "Just where
are we bound?"

"An island. We should be there soon. I'll be going back again myself
but Mr. Bancroft is coming shortly. That should convince you just how
important this is to us."

Dalgetty nodded. "Can I think it over for awhile? It isn't an easy
decision for me."

"Sure. I hope you decide right."

Tyler got up and left with his guards. The big man who had handed him
the drink earlier sat where he had been all the time. Slowly the
psychologist began to tighten himself. The faint drone of turbines and
whistle of jets and sundered air began to enlarge.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"CAN'T TELL YOU THAT. SHUDDUP, WILL YOU?"

"But surely...."

The guard didn't answer. But he was thinking.
_Ree-villa-ghee-gay-doe--never would p'rnounce that damn Spig name ...
cripes, what a God-forsaken hole!... Mebbe I can work a trip over to
Mexico.... That little gal in Guada...._

Dalgetty concentrated. Revilla--he had it now. Islas de Revillagigedo
a small group some 350 or 400 miles off the Mexican coast, little
visited with very few inhabitants. His eide