On the last night, Mark tossed restlessly in his bed. He could not sleep, and he didn't know why. Was it something they had forgotten? He didn't think so. Nevertheless he had a preternatural awareness of something wrong.... He arose, dressed quickly. There was never "night" on this side of the little world, but the rooms were automatically dimmed. Silently he tip-toed through the rooms. Brownell was there, sleeping peacefully. And Janus, and all the others. No! Ferris was gone. Mark's heart leaped. He had never liked that man, never quite trusted him. Now it came back. Ferris' eternal harping about the fortune he had put into this expedition. If that little rat was planning--Mark hurried outside. The city was deathly quiet, immersed in sleep. The eternal light struck his eyes and brought him fully alert. He hurried along the street toward the outskirts, toward the base of the hill where the spaceship waited. As he neared the hill, he spied Ferris. The man was coming down the slope. Ferris saw him, and waved a hand in greeting. "Hi! Is it you, Travers? What's the matter, can't you sleep either?" Mark's steps slowed, and he breathed in relief. He'd been wrong. After all, the man had a right to be up. They met near the spaceship, and Ferris waved a hand toward the crest of the hill. "I was just looking at the Stone. It's the damnedest thing!" "Yes. Brownell tells me--" Ferris' hand moved like lightning. Mark found himself staring into the stub end of a neutro-gun. Ferris was no longer smiling and casual. "In!" he snarled. "Get in there--quick!" He gestured toward the ship, and Mark noticed the door was open. He moved toward it slowly, then paused, started to turn. "I'll blast you, Travers!" Mark shrugged, entered. Ferris came quickly behind him. "That's better. I don't want to rouse any of the others. Sounds carry far on this world." He paused and grinned, with all but his eyes. "Sure, Travers, I was looking at the Stone. I'd like to get it back to Earth, but it's too much for me. Guess I'll just have to be satisfied with the Frequency Tuner. The Bureau of Inventions will pay me a handsome price for it, no questions asked." "You sneaking, double-crossing rat," Mark said slowly. "You'll never get away with this!" "_This_ says I will," Ferris sneered, gesturing with the neutro. "And since you came snooping out here, I'll just take that new weapon of yours." "It doesn't work any more." "I'll take it anyway. Hand it over. Careful!" Mark shrugged, tossed the box-like weapon to him. But his mind was racing. Ferris had the upper hand, all right, and he _would_ get away with this if Mark didn't do something quick. Mark glanced around. They were in the control room, and he knew the Frequency Tuner was ready. He said: "What about Brownell--Janus--the others?" "What about 'em? They wanted to come out here, so let 'em stay. Yeah--for the next hundred years!" "What about me?"