He gazed fascinatedly at the object's expanse. Two hundred feet long, he guessed, increasing from its pointed bow to about a thirty foot diameter at its midpoint. The diameter was constant back to a point thirty feet forward of the stern, then became abruptly bulbous. It resembled a monstrous gourd—bearing what strange seeds?
Undoubtedly this silent, implacable thing came from far beyond man's ken, a misshapen Nautilus fitted out to probe the void. Had it come deliberately or had it blundered—a derelict?—to Earth?
The sultry night suddenly filled with sound. Awed and frightened motorists broke through the fence from Grand Central Parkway, and streamed across the park until a voice cried out authoritatively:
"Keep back! This is the Army! This is a restricted area!"
Other figures raced from within the park. Anti-aircraft crews, Winthrop thought.
The man who had shouted the orders was coming toward him.
"What are you doing here?"
"It isn't just idle curiosity, lieutenant," Winthrop said, quickly. "I'm a physicist. Los Alamos and other places. I'm afraid I'm damnably curious when something unclassified drops into our ordered world."
"I see. All right, stick around, maybe you can help us classify it!"
The lieutenant smiled, and swung away.