"I can do it—provided——"
"I am sure that our cause is one that will enlist your enthusiastic support. You will be asked to do nothing dishonorable."
Mr. Cain took a thin white card from his pocket, scrawled rapidly upon it, and handed it to Bill, who read the words, "Admit bearer. Cain."
"Present that at the elevator, at eight tonight. Ask to be taken to Dr. Trainor."
Mr. Cain walked rapidly away, with his lithe, springy step, leaving Bill standing, looking at the card, rather astounded.
At eight that night, a surprised guard let Bill into the waiting room. The elevator attendant looked at the card.
"Yes. Dr. Trainor is up in the observatory."
The car shot up, carrying Bill on the longest vertical trip on earth. It was minutes before the lights on the many floors of the cylindrical building atop the tower were flashing past them. The elevator stopped. The door swung open, and Bill stepped out beneath the crystal dome of an astronomical observatory.
He was on the very top of Trainor's Tower.
The hot stars shone, hard and clear, through a metal-ribbed dome of polished vitrolite. Through the lower panels of the transparent wall, Bill could see the city spread below him—a mosaic of fine points of light, scattered with the colored winking eyes of electric signs; it was so far below that it seemed a city in miniature.