"There's where I'm holed up. Drop me off in front."
A young woman in a faded blue satin-glass house-dress was standing at the gate of the white picket fence. She watched in silence as the passenger stepped from the rocket car and lifted his hand to the driver in careless farewell.
"Thanks for the lift, chum," said Mike Eagen.
"Not at all," replied Marden. "Glad to have been of service to Mike Eagen."
The woman smiled to him.
"He's told you his name, I see."
Marden lifted his hat.
"Indeed he has."
"Michael is all right," she said. "I do think, though, that he reads too many Buck Gordon Interplanetary comic books for a boy of eleven."
THE END