ave time."

"We've got it--but the price was very steep, son."

Silence then as Carl peered at him. Finally: "I see."

"If I hadn't been in such a hurry, if I'd only thought it out," Dan
said miserably. "It was an awful error--and all mine, too."

"Well, don't go out and shoot yourself. I suppose it had to happen
sooner or later. What about Mother?"

"She'll be perfectly safe. They won't get within a mile of her. Look,
son--is Fisher doing all right?"

Carl nodded. "I talked to him an hour ago. He'll be ready for you by
tomorrow night, he thinks."

"Sober?"

"Sober. And mad. He's the right guy for the job." Worried lines
deepened on Golden's forehead. "Everything's O.K.? Rinehart won't
dare--"

"I scared him. He'd almost forgotten. Everything's fine." Dan rang
off, scowling. He wished he was as sure as he sounded. Rinehart's back
was to the wall, now. Dan wasn't too sure he liked it that way.

An hour later he was in Washington, and Jean was dragging him into the
Volta. "If you don't sleep now, I'll have you put to sleep. Now shut
up while I drive you home."

A soft bed, darkness, escape. When had he slept last? It was heaven.

* * * * *

He slept the clock around, which he had not intended, and caught the
next night-jet to Las Vegas, which he had intended. There was some
delay with the passenger list after he had gone aboard, a fight of
some sort, and the jet took off four minutes late. Dan slept again,
fitfully.

Somebody slid into the adjoining seat. "Well! Good old Dan Fowler!"

A gaunt, frantic-looking man, with skin like cracked parchment across
his high cheekbones, and a pair of Carradine eyes looking down at Dan.
If Death should walk in human flesh, Dan thought, it would look like
John Tyndall.

"What do you want, 'Moses'?"

"Just dropped by to chat," said Tyndall. "You're heading for Las
Vegas, eh? Why?"

Dan jerked, fumbled for the upright-button. "I like the climate out
there. If you want to talk, talk and get it over with."

Tyndall lifted a narrow foot and gave the recline-button a sharp jab,
dumping the Senator back against the seat. "You're onto something. I
can smell it cooking, and I want my share, right now."

Dan stared into the gaunt face, and burst out laughing. He had never
actually been so close to John Tyndall before, and he did _not_ like
the smell, which had brought on the laugh, but he knew all about
Tyndall. More than Tyndall himself k