"This is the Energy Barrage Penetrator, Harwich," Paul Arnold was saying in husky tones, as the two men bent over a copper helix or spiral, attached to a maze of wires, tubes, and power-packs. "I rebuilt it here on this test-block from Dad's plans; with certain rearrangements, of course. But we need a new Gyon condenser, if we want to raise the Penetrator's strength enough to make our venture successful."
Evan Harwich nodded beneath the single illuminator bulb that glowed here, its rays glinting from the battered, patched hull of the space ship, RQ257, that stood in the center of the great room, under the airtight exit doors provided for it in the ceiling.
"So I see," Harwich commented with subdued eagerness. "Well, that's not so bad. I can buy a new Gyon condenser from one of the supply shops in town. I'm no scientist, fella, but they give us a pretty complete scientific training in the patrol service. Enough so that I can see that the Penetrator is going to do the trick, this time, with your improvements. And I don't think it will take very long to get things ready for a real trip to the Forbidden Moon."
The patrol man had hardly finished speaking, when a door, somewhere, groaned on its hinges. In the dusty silence there were footsteps, coming nearer through the series of rooms.
"Well, have we got company?" a voice boomed heavily after a moment.
Evan Harwich turned about slowly. Standing in the arched entrance of the laboratory chamber, beneath the ancient, grinning gargoyle of carven granite that formed the keystone of the arch, were two people. They must have just come in from town.
One was a man, as tall as Harwich himself, but much broader. He looked jovial, overfed, and just faintly sly. Harwich knew him a little. He kept a small printer's establishment in Ganymede City, repaired delicate instruments, and made loans on the side.
"Hello, Harwich!" the big man greeted loudly. "You look surprised to see me here! Well, I'm just as up in the air as you are, to find you around. How come? You see I've been financing Paul Arnold's researches since old John was killed. Has Paulie talked you into some part in the great miracle hunt on Io, too?"
"Hello yourself, Bayley," the patrol man returned in not too friendly a tone. "Yes, I've joined up."
Harwich was a little more than surprised to see the fat printer here. He didn't like the setup at all. Not that he had anything definite against George Bayley. The latter had always seemed good-natured and honest, except for some elusive trace of insincerity in his manner, his voice, and his little squinted eyes.