And then he recalled the girl, Mademoiselle Diane, a slim figure outlined in a lighted window of the old chateau. Was there hope there? he wondered. Had her clear, smiling eyes seen what occurred? "Nonsense," he told himself. "She saw nothing in that storm. And, besides, she is one of their crowd--tarred with the same stick. Forget her." But he knew, as he framed the unspoken words, that the advice was vain. He would never forget her. There was a picture in his mind that could not be blotted out--a picture of a tall, slender girl, trim and straight in her mannish attire, who came toward him from her little red speedster. She held out her hand impulsively, and her eyes were smiling as she said; "We will be generous, Monsieur Harkness--" "Generous!" His smile was bitter as he turned to help Chet in their final work. CHAPTER IV _The Rescue in Space_ How often are the great things of life submerged beneath the trivial. The vast reaches of space that must be traversed; the unknown world that awaited them out there; its lands and seas and the life that was upon it: Walter Harkness was pondering all this deep within his mind. It must have been the same with Chet, yet few words of speculation were exchanged. Instead, the storage of supplies, a checking and rechecking of lists, additional careful testing of generators--such details absorbed them. And the heavy, gray powder with its admixture of radium that transformed it to super-detonite--this must be carefully charged into the magazines of the generators. A thousand such responsibilities--and yet the moment finally came when all was done. The midnight sun shone redly from a distant horizon. It cast strange lights across the icy waste. And it flashed back in crimson splendor from the gleaming hull that floated from the hangar and came to rest upon the snowy world. The two men closed the great doors, and it was as if they were shutting themselves off from their last contact with the world. They stood for long moments, silent, in the utter silence of the frozen north. Chet Bullard turned, and Harkness gripped his hand. He was suddenly aware of his thankfulness for the companionship of this tall, blond youngster. He tried to speak--but what words could express the tumult of emotions that arose within him? His throat was tight.... It was Chet who broke the tense silence; his happy grin flashed like sunshine across his lean face. "You're right," he answered his companion's unspoken thoughts; "it's a great little old world we're leaving. I wonder what the new one will be like." And Harkness smiled back. "Let's go!" he said, and turned toward the waiting ship. * * * * * The control room was lined with the instruments they had installed. A nitron illuminator flashed brilliantly upon shining levers--emergency controls that they hoped they would not have to use. Harkness placed his hand upon a small metal ball as Chet reported all ports closed.