"Not the last time at all. We hadn't—"
"As soon as we are able to leave here," he said, drawing her close and squeezing her gently, "I'll take steps to have him declared legally dead. Then we'll get married."
"That's not much of a proposal," she smiled. "But I guess I'll have to accept you. You have Clyde's power of attorney."
"And we'll be rich. Richer than ever. I'll be able to use some of my own ideas about the investments. As a matter of fact, I have already." And he frowned slightly.
"We have enough," Beryl said quickly. "Don't try to speculate. You know how Clyde felt about that."
"But he spent so damned much on the machine. I had to make back those expenses somehow."
Steps sounded outside and they drew apart. The reporter came in with a companion of about his own age.
"Better wipe the lipstick off," he grinned. "It's almost time for something to happen."
Stern dabbed at his mouth angrily with his handkerchief.
At first the sound was so soft that it could hardly be heard, but soon a whistling grew until it became a threat to the eardrums. The reporters looked at each other with glad, excited eyes.