Andrews' jaw sagged. "Why, that's the same thing that happened the other two times!" he said in amazement. "The first time it was almost six hours fast. The second time, over eight hours slow. And now, two hours slow!"
"Well?" prompted Randall.
"There's something queer about that. The last time I radioed the Antipodes and made sure the clock was correct just before the Vator left!"
Randall was silent for a moment. "Well," he said at last. "There's only one way to track this thing down. And that's to get the information first hand. Andrews, you can book my passage on your next trip."
The Earth-Tube supervisor gasped. "You aren't going in the face of what's happened!"
"Someone has to," Randall returned. "I'll go as your steward."
II
Two hours later Randall stood stiffly at attention in his somewhat oversized steward's uniform while eleven passengers filed into the Diamvator, chattering in excitement over their coming adventure.
Randall wondered with a wry smile what their reactions would be if they knew what had happened to the Diamvator's passengers on three preceding trips. The secret agent had not been entirely in agreement with his Chief's orders that the mysteries be suppressed and that passengers still be accepted. But he saw the logic of keeping the trap baited. And Randall realized, with a warm feeling inside, that his Chief depended upon him to protect the eleven lives which were the bait in a trap which he hoped fervently would not close upon those who set it!