"Will you? I'll appreciate it. I sort of hate to let this thing go when I feel that I'm near an answer." "We'll do it," said Walt. "Definitely." * * * * * They left the laboratory and made their way to the elevator that would lift them high into the Relay Station where the machine shop was located. As they entered the elevator, Don shook his head. "What's the matter?" "Well, Friend Farrell is on the beam again. If he feels that we're close to the answer, I'll bet a hat that we're hanging right on the edge. Also, that kind of work would kill me dead. He likes to stick on one thing until the bitter end, no matter how long it takes. I couldn't do it." "I know. About three hours of this and you're wanting another job to clear your mind. Then you could tackle that one for about three hours and take back on the first." "Trying to do that to Farrell would kill both him and the jobs," said Don. "But you and I can keep two or three projects going strong. Oh well, Wes is worth a million." "He's the best we've got," agreed Walt. "Just because he has a peculiar slant on life is no sign he's not brilliant." "It's you and I that have the cockeyed slant on life," grinned Don. "And frankly, I'm proud of it." He swung the elevator door aside and they walked down the corridor. "This isn't going to be much to see, but we'll take a look." The machine shop, to the man, was clustered around the one cabinet under construction. They moved aside to permit the entry of Channing and Franks. "Hm-m-m," said Don. "Looks like a refrigerator and incinerator combined." It did. It stood five feet tall, three feet square, and was sealed in front by a heavy door. There was a place intended for the tube that Farrell was tinkering with in the blister, and the lines to supply the power were coiled behind the cabinet. "Partly wired?" asked Don. "Just the power circuits," answered Walton. "We'll have this finished in a couple of days more. The other one is completed except for Wes Farrell's section." Channing nodded, and said: "Keep it going." He turned to Walt and after the passage of a knowing glance, the pair left. "Walt, this waiting is getting on my nerves. I want to go down to Joe's and drink myself into a stupor which will last until they get something cogent to work on." "I'm with you, but what will Arden say?" "I'm going to get Arden. Self-protection. She'd cut my feet off at the knees if I went off on a tear without her." "I have gathered that," grinned Walt. "You're afraid of her." "Yeah," drawled Don. "After all--she's the cook." "I'm waiting." "Waiting for what?" "If and when. If you two go on as you have for another year without one of you turning up with a black eye, I may be tempted to go forth and track me down a dame of my own." * * * * *