My glance fell on the newspaper open on my lap. A lovely debutante stared up at me, smiling. "_Wedding Set For Next Month_," the caption under the picture announced. _If there is a next month_, I thought. Millions like the debutante were thinking of some bliss next month would bring--the young mother-to-be; the old couple approaching a golden anniversary celebration; the prisoner awaiting release; the author looking forward to his first published book. If Armstrong and I failed--I shook off the thought of it and turned to the sport page. The print grew dim behind a procession of images of happy brides, bright-eyed old couples, beaming, confident young men, and I fell off into an uneasy sleep. At the airport the Director of the Atomic labs was on hand to meet me and take me to his home for breakfast. I ate hurriedly and waited with evident impatience until my host drove me over to the atomic labs. He showed me into Chetzisky's office and the hunt had begun. The office was a small neat room at the end of a corridor. I inspected every nook and cranny of the place. I took out the desk drawers, looked for stray papers, leafed through the scientific volumes in the bookcase. I checked the wall calendar for notations or circled dates. I searched everywhere and found nothing. From the office the Director drove me over to the "prefab" residential section where Doctor Chetzisky's assistant, Roger Budnick, lived. He was just sitting down to a last minute coffee when we came in. The Director introduced us and left. I joined Budnick in a coffee and questioned him about the Doctor. He answered frankly but he had no information. Disgusted and discouraged I accepted Budnick's offer to ride with him to the labs. His 1938 Chevrolet was parked in front of the house. I noticed the badly dented fender as I walked around to get in the car, and commented on it. "I got it the same night Doctor Chetzisky had his accident at the lab." I froze in the act of sliding into the seat beside him. "What accident?" "Oh, the doctor was doing some work alone one night. Something went wrong and he telephoned for me to come over right away. When I got there everything was all right. He apologized for disturbing me." "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?" "No, I don't think so. Except the Geiger; it gave a count a little above normal." Somewhere here was a lead. I felt it, but I couldn't seem to get my hands on it. "Did he have any visitors about that time?" Budnick lowered his head, studying the gravelled road in a concentrated attempt at remembering. He shook his head slowly. Then his memory stirred. "Yes, I remember. A day or so before the accident he had a visitor. Some geologist, I believe; that reminds me, too: that night in the lab the Doctor had one of those boxes mineral samples are kept in. It was very heavy, as if it was solid lead." Excited now, I shot my questions in rapid fire.