"Come!" he said. "I'm not trying to snare you. But there were unusual features to my ad, and they were put there to attract an unusual type of man. To judge your qualifications, I must know just why this proposition appeals to you." "I can tell you that," nodded Quest, "but there's nothing unusual about it. In the first place, I knew that the Clason Research Corporation is the leading concern of its kind in the country. In the second place, this seemed to offer a way to obtain a substantial sum of money quickly." "Good," said Clason. "And you feel that you have all the necessary qualifications?" "Decidedly. I am 24 years old, athletic, and of an earnest and determined nature. Moreover, I have no family ties, and I'm willing to run any reasonable risk in order to improve the condition of my fellow men." Clason smiled his approval. "You say you need money. How much immediately?" Quest was unprepared for the question. "A thousand dollars," he ventured. Without hesitation Clason counted out ten one-hundred-dollar notes from his wallet and laid them on the table. "There's your advance fee. You're ready to go to work immediately, I hope?" "Certainly," stammered Quest. Stunned by the swiftness of the transaction, he sat staring at the money that lay untouched before him. To accept it would be like signing an unread contract. But he had asked for it; to refuse it was impossible. Even to delay about picking it up might arouse Clason's suspicion. Already the latter had turned away and was opening the door of a steel cabinet. Quest had one second in which to reach a decision.... He crammed the currency into his pocket. * * * * * With delicate care Clason set two objects on the table. One looked to Quest like a miniature broadcasting tower or a mooring mast for lighter than air craft. The other was a circular vat of some black material, probably carbon. Within it a series of concentric tissues were suspended from metal rings, and in a trough outside ranged four stoppered flasks containing liquids of as many different colors. "Look at these models carefully," said Clason. "They represent two of the most remarkable discoveries of all time. The one on your left is the most _de_structive weapon known to man. The other I consider the most _con_structive discovery in the history of science. It may even lead to an understanding of the nature of life, and of the future of the spirit after death. "Both of these were developed by my brother Philip and me together--but we have disagreed about the use to which they shall be put. "Philip"--the inventor dropped his voice to a whisper--"wants to sell the secret of the Death Projector--the tower, there--as an instrument of war. If I should permit him to do that, it might lead to the destruction of whole nations!" "How?" demanded Quest "I've heard of a device called the Death Ray. Is this it?"