"If he returns, we can tell by the displaced air rushing out. Then the door will open automatically." "And when is the return scheduled for?" asked the reporter. "Three-forty-seven and twenty-nine seconds." "If it happens," the reporter added skeptically. "And if it doesn't, we have to wait another year." "Optimum conditions occur just once a year." "Well, I'm going out to get some cigarettes. I've got time ... and probably nothing to wait for. I'll return though." He walked briskly through the outer door. * * * * * "This is the hardest part of the year, especially now. Suppose he did come back," Beryl said plaintively. "You don't have to worry," Stern assured her. "Clyde himself said that if he didn't come back the second year, he might not make it at all." Stern opened his gold case now and offered Beryl a cigarette. She shook her head. "But he made two trial runs in it first and came back." "That was for a short distance only--that is, a short distance astronomically. Figuring for Mars was another story. Maybe he missed the planet and ..." "Oh, don't! It's just not _knowing_ that I can't stand." "Well," he said drily, "we'll know in--" he stopped and looked at his wristwatch--"in just about fifteen minutes." "I can't wait," she moaned. He put his arm around her. "Relax. Take it easy and stop worrying. It'll just be like last time." "Not the last time at all. We hadn't--" "As soon as we are able to leave here," he said, drawing her close and squeezing her gently, "I'll take steps to have him declared legally dead. Then we'll get married." "That's not much of a proposal," she smiled. "But I guess I'll have to accept you. You have Clyde's power of attorney." "And we'll be rich. Richer than ever. I'll be able to use some of my own ideas about the investments. As a matter of fact, I have already." And he frowned slightly. "We have enough," Beryl said quickly. "Don't try to speculate. You know how Clyde felt about that." "But he spent so damned much on the machine. I had to make back those expenses somehow." Steps sounded outside and they drew apart. The reporter came in with a companion of about his own age. "Better wipe the lipstick off," he grinned. "It's almost time for something to happen." Stern dabbed at his mouth angrily with his handkerchief. At first the sound was so soft that it could hardly be heard, but soon a whistling grew until it became a threat to the eardrums. The reporters looked at each other with glad, excited eyes. The whistling stopped abruptly and, slowly, the door opened. The reporters rushed in immediately. Beryl gripped Stern's hand convulsively. "He's come back." "Yes, but that mustn't change our plans, Beryl dear." "But, Al ... Oh, why were we so foolish?" "Not foolish, dear. Not at all foolish. Now we have to go in."