"Exit the villain! Donner, you've got a talent, but you're in the wrong line of work." G. W. Caples dug a chubby fore-finger under his collar and worked the tie knot loose. "This scenario is worth every single cent of $300,000." Raymond Donner's mouth pressed a little tighter and his tongue pushed through to moisten his gray dry lips. "He never came back," he said hoarsely. "And neither did Hays." Something in the man's voice stopped the president from going on with his sarcastic attack. "Did the ship crash?" he asked more soberly. "No. It just flew away and never came back." The silence hung like a shroud. All three of them--even the self-conscious Taplin--stared at Donner. "We talked to Porter Hays in turns. We begged him to come back. But he just laughed and said he was having the ride of his life. After about two hours, his voice faded out suddenly--and that was the end of it." "How long ago was this?" "Four days." "Have you notified the authorities, the police or--well, anyone?" "No. I've been putting it off. You see, Hays gave us no hint of any trouble. The others are still sitting out there in the desert waiting for him, trying to make radio contact. The ship carried a standard survival kit with seven days' rations and water. If he's had no operational trouble, Hays could stay out at least a week." "And what about Simon Kane?" demanded Caples. * * * * * "When Kane didn't come back by noon, I went to look for him. "On the way to his home, I stopped at the office, on a hunch, and discovered the records were missing. At last it began to penetrate that there was something rotten in Denmark. "Dusk had fallen and there were no lights in the Kane house when I got there. No one answered the doorbell. I called and pounded and finally climbed in a window to look for signs that the Kanes had packed and left. There were none. Everything was in order. "Then, as I was leaving, I heard a knocking sound from the end of the building and traced it to the last room on the west side, a sort of study. The knocking came from a locked closet. The key was gone, so I had to smash the door. "Nalja Kane was sitting on the floor, staring at me without seeming to see me. She looked frightful, with her hair awry and her eyes red and glassy. "She sort of moaned as I helped her up. 'Did it happen? Did he fly the ship?' "I said, 'Yes, but something's wrong. Where is your husband?' "The girl seemed to go all to pieces, turning her head from side to side and repeating, 'Oh, no! Oh, no!' Then she collapsed. "I drove her to the hotel in the nearest town and called a doctor I knew. He said she had emotional exhaustion, needed rest rather than hospital care, and gave her a strong sedative. When I got home, I stayed awake long enough to write that letter to you and then fell into bed.