"His name," I continued, "is John Cartaphilus!"
Bartlett said, "Cartaphilus!" In a leap he was at our strange guest's side, his voice eager. "Then he will—he must—help us!
"Cartaphilus, listen to me! Of all men, only you have the genius to devise some way of escaping this peril! You've been mad, sir! Insane from your privations! But now I beg that you cast aside this madness, come to our rescue!"
Moran—or Cartaphilus—brushed his hand aside. A dreamy look was in his eyes.
"Death at last!" he whispered. "Oh, sweet boon of mankind—death! I who have suffered so long, waited such a long time—"
"Can't you hear me, man? Snap out of it! Time is growing short. In a half hour, maybe less, we'll nose into the H-layer. And then—Please, sir!"
But there was no reply. Captain McNeally looked at me uncertainly. "Are you sure, Brait?"
"Positive. I forwarded a description to Bender at L.I. He said Cartaphilus has been missing for a year and a half. He fled Earth because of a scandal. It seems—"
"Never mind that now." McNeally confronted the insane scientist. "Mr. Cartaphilus, you must help us out of this jam! We're not thinking only of ourselves, but of the mothers and children waiting for us on Earth. And of the future of space-travel. If the Antigone, the finest ship ever built, blows out in the H-layer, it will strike a heavy blow at all astronavigation. Help us, sir! For Heaven's sake—"
Cartaphilus spoke suddenly, sharply.