"You asked what was up, Kerwin," Perry growled at last. "Well, so far we've tried to keep our work here dark so we could get the first investigations completed without interference. But I guess there's no use to stall. You said you'd find out anyway, and you're right--whatever good that'll do you. I think everybody'll get the story in a few days, or even hours. I suppose somebody tipped you off about what we were doing--somebody who lives around here." Perry grinned crookedly at the girl, Lyssa Arthurs, as he made this half accusation. "But it doesn't matter," he went on. "You saw what just happened, Kerwin. We've evidently reached something with the drill. I don't know what--yet. But it's terribly old, Kerwin. And get this--there's metal down there--a perfectly balanced alloy as old as the Carboniferous fossils! Yes, it's pretty big, Kerwin! And liable to be--dangerous! Why, hell, even that cellar stench that came up from down there might actually be poisonous! It might contain microscopic spores that, in contact with human lungs, could grow and kill. Spores from the past, Kerwin. Sealed up and kept alive through the ages. Of course it's a thin possibility, but who can say? Do you still want to hang around, Kerwin?" The latter's retreat was just a trifle too quick for good poise, and the sudden fury of his expression wasn't good form either. "Rot, Wilcox!" he half stammered and half roared as he backed away. "You're talking rot!" Perry could almost feel sorry for him at that moment. Full of hypochondriac fear, inspired by nothing but the slenderest of chances, Kerwin was trying to mask his cowardice by a show of scorn. But Perry could feel sorrier for Lyssa Arthurs. Troubles, she was called. And she looked regular, all right.... But why was she hanging around with Kerwin? Now Kerwin made a nervous, jerking sign to his henchmen. "Come on, boys," he said. "We might as well leave these fools to their silly grubbing." Even the three pug-uglies looked a bit sheepish at the hasty departure their boss led them into. * * * * * Workmen were grinning and chuckling as Perry turned about, and old Rod Murgatroyd's red face was alight with amusement and satisfaction. "You sure told that ninny where to dump himself, pal," he complimented, his blue eyes seeming to twinkle even in the dusk. Perry's answering smile was brief. He glanced toward the fence, from beyond which came the sounds of Kerwin's car speeding away along the concrete road.