Our eight days of grace were passed. The brigand ship was due--now, to-morrow, or the next day. I recall, that night, my sleep was fitfully uneasy. Snap and I had a cubby together. We talked, and made futile plans. I went to sleep, but awakened after a few hours. Impending disaster lay heavily on me. But there was nothing abnormal nor unusual in that! Snap was asleep. I was restless, but I did not have the heart to awaken him. He needed what little repose he could get. I dressed, left our cubby and wandered out into the corridor of the main building. It was cold in the corridor, and gloomy with the weak blue light. An interior watchman passed me. "All as usual, Haljan." "Nothing in sight?" "No. They're looking." I went through the connecting corridor to the adjacent building. In the instrument-room several of the men were gathered, scanning the vault overhead. "Nothing, Haljan." I stayed with them awhile, then wandered away. The outside man met me near the admission lock-chambers of the main building. The duty-man here sat at his controls, raising the air-pressure in the locks through which the outside watchman was coming. The relief sat here in his bloated suit, with his helmet on his knees. It was Wilks. "Nothing yet, Haljan. I'm going up to the peak of the crater to see if anything is in sight. I wish that damnable brigand ship would come and get it over with." Instinctively we all spoke in half whispers, the tenseness bearing in on us. The outside man came out of his helmet. He was white and grim, but he grinned at Wilks. "All is usual." He tried the familiar jest at Wilks, but his voice was flat: "Don't let the Earthlight get you!" Wilks went out through the portes--a process of no more than a minute. I wandered away again through the corridors. * * * * * I suppose it was half an hour later that I chanced to be gazing through a corridor window. The lights along the rocky cliff-edge were tiny blue spots. The head of the stairway leading down to the abyss of the crater floor was visible. The bloated figure of Wilks was just coming up. I watched him for a moment making his rounds. He did not stop to inspect the lights. That was routine; I thought it queer that he passed them. Another minute passed. The figure of Wilks went with slow bounds over toward the back of the ledge where the glassite shelter housed the treasure. It was all dark off there. Wilks went into the gloom, but before I lost sight of him he came back. As though he had changed his mind he headed for the foot of the staircase which led up the cliff-face to where, at the peak of the little crater, five hundred feet above us, the narrow observatory platform was perched. He climbed with easy bounds, the light on his helmet bobbing in the gloom. I stood watching. I could not tell why there seemed to be something queer about Wilks' actions. But I was struck with it, nevertheless. I watched him disappear over the peak of the summit.