Randall stood stock still for a moment, cataloguing the details of the room, and trying to assimilate the facts of this strange enigma.
Then he turned to Andrews and asked, "How many passengers left the Antipodes in the Vator?"
"Ten," Andrews said huskily. "That's three times in the last month this has happened. I—I don't know what—"
"How about cargo?" Randall interrupted, his pale eyes glowing with a newly awakened fire. "Any valuable shipment?"
Andrews shook his head vehemently. "That's what makes it even more inexplicable! Each time this thing has happened there has been nothing but baggage scheduled. The mail and most of our insured expressage goes out on the 6:30 A.M. trip. I—"
"Any idea how anything could possibly disappear from the Diamvator during its trip? Don't you have radio contact with the car?"
Again the Earth-Tube supervisor shook his head. "How anything or anyone could leave the Vator during the trip, even with the aid of its passengers, is more than a mystery. It's impossible! As for contact, we have no communication with the Vator from the time it leaves one side until it reaches the other. You see, the Earth's metal core entirely absorbs and blankets Hertzian waves, making radio communication impossible from car to surface."
Randall nodded. "Do you have a steward on the Tube Car during the trip?"
"Yes," Andrews said wearily. "This is the third we've lost. I don't—"
"That's queer," said Randall suddenly. He pointed to the clock on the mantel above the imitation fireplace. "Over two hours slow," he mused, glancing at his wrist watch. "It's a wonder you fellows wouldn't supply the Vator with a good timepiece."