Thus, in a manner far different from that which the comrades had planned, was the matter arranged. Swiftly, but as inconspicuously as possible, the conspirators made their preparations, gathered their belongings together, and transported them to the Geneva rocketdrome, which, fortunately, lay directly adjacent to the private cradle-field of the Solar Space Patrol headquarters. Amidst the hurly-burly and confusion of this place it was a simple matter for Captain Hugh Warren to delegate two members of his crew to slip to the larger drome and there, unnoticed in the bedlam of blasting explosions, milling throngs, and tearful goodbyes, move the pile of luggage from one drome to the other. By nightfall the exchange had been completed; the plan was in readiness. There came to the _pension_ a small, gnarled figure bearing a mountainous bundle. This, when unwrapped, proved to be sufficient of the familiar sky blue SSP uniform clothing to disguise every member of the party. The bearer, a man who identified himself as, "'Awkins, sir--'Erby 'Awkins, stooard o' the blinkin' _Liberty_, that's me, sir!" gravely transmitted Captain Warren's instructions as to entering the SSP rocketdrome. "Just walk on past the sentry without sayin' nothin', folks," he advised. "I'll give the password for the crew of us. Actin' like you had maybe a drop too many might be a bit of an 'elp, but it don't matter much. The sentries will be expectin' us, and won't think a thing of it." "Expecting us?" repeated Nora. "Five strangers, including a woman?" 'Erby 'Awkins grinned impishly. "Beggin' your poddon, miss, but when you get them volly-oominus blues wrapped about your own pretty self--meanin' no impertinence--it'd take a sharp-eyed sentry to tell whether you was male or female, old or young. And there's no call for them to be suspicious. Cap'n, he give five men all night leave, he did, and told them not to bother comin' back. But he reported to the Captain of the Guards that he was expectin' five of his crew to report back to headquarters at eleven o'clock. That's the hour when we'll enter the gates." Gary said soberly, "We understand, Hawkins. I see Captain Warren has already told you what we are planning to do." And Hawkins replied with quiet dignity, "He didn't tell me nawthin', sir; not a blinkin' word. And if I _does_ 'ave my suspicions, well, wot matter? Cap'n Warren's our skipper, sir. What he decides is good enough for me and the rest of the crew." * * * * * So at eleven o'clock that night, as the long black spires of the circling mountains rose to merge with the thicker black of a clouded, moonless sky, five slightly tipsy figures lurched with shambling feet to the sacrosanct portal of the Solar Space Patrol rocketdrome. [Illustration: Lane did what must be done--and did it swiftly.]