"He was faking," said Rogers. "He wasn't dead--he merely pretended, the coward!" Lejeune took a quick drink, threw a sidelong glance at Lane's bloody form, and walked slowly back to the control room. Rogers followed. The clicking of their heels made a sullen echo upon the blistered walls. On the screen, something dim and remote was moving, growing in size. Rogers hastened forward in amazement. "It's Geitz!" he breathed. "Lord--he was too late--he's falling back!" "A pity," said Lejeune. "He has so much longer to wait now. It must be horrible." "And the cylinder," Rogers sighed. "All that information will be lost." His tired, bloodshot eyes followed the little capsule's course across the screen, back toward the flaming sun. "Perhaps," remarked Lejeune, "there will be another expedition to Mercury some day, another group of scientists, with a better ship and better equipment. And no meteorite will prevent their safe return to earth." He hesitated, took two tumblers from a nearby cabinet and filled them with the remaining contents of his bottle. He handed one of them to Rogers, took the other himself. "A final toast, Captain?" Rogers accepted. "To the next Mercurian expedition, Lejeune." "The next expedition, Captain Rogers." They drank, and Lejeune sucked in a breath. "I say--it's getting a bit warm in here, isn't it?"