The professor's nephew, Douglas Jameson, found himself sworn to secrecy in the instructions left him by his dead uncle. An immediate funeral service, according to those instructions, must follow his death. Relatives believed him to be in his dotage. Only nephew Douglas realized the significance of this quick funeral and removal to the vault. Through the blanket of snow which had fallen that morning, Douglas Jameson stole quietly to the cemetery, unlocked the vault and removed the body of the professor. For a venture so colossal and unprecedented, the professor's corpse was given but small consideration. His nephew carried him from the cemetery to the rocket in a canvas sack--yet such had been the professor's instructions, obeyed to the letter by an astonished and dutiful nephew. Douglas Jameson entered the leaning tower and found the rocket set firmly on its supports, its bullet nose pointing up the circular center of the shaft. Cylindrical, and tapering at its base, the rocket was fifteen feet long and five feet in diameter. Opening a doorway in the hull, he peered inside at the luxurious upholstering, his hand sinking to the wrist in the deep, plush lining. The interior was just large enough to accommodate a human body, and he carefully placed his uncle's body inside, fastening a strap beneath his chin and more straps to his wrists and ankles. He closed the door firmly. His eyes wandered to the lever at the base of the rocket near one of the stabilizer fins. He must pull the lever and leave quickly. A five-minute interval would elapse before the rocket took off. It was dangerous to remain. He hesitated a moment--then pulled the lever. He did not stay to watch its effect but ran up the stairs into the laboratory and out into the winter night. The laboratory was isolated from the rest of the buildings. Clouds scudded across the face of the moon which lay well away from that quarter of the sky at which the rocket tower was aimed. This had been a part of the professor's instructions. He wanted the moon's attraction left out of his plans. Five minutes never seemed so long before. Douglas watched the lazy second hand crawl its slow journey around the tiny dial four times, and after that his eyes never left the tower looming darkly against the night sky. With a low, crackling hiss, the rocket finally made its appearance, breaking forth from the leaning tower, gaining rapid acceleration and leaving in its wake a blue, phosphorescent glow tinged with violet. For a long time that night, Douglas Jameson stood and watched the starlit heavens turning imperceptibly upon the axis of Polaris. It was near dawn before he went to his bed in the silent and gloomy Jameson mansion.