"No, blast it, she won't," concurred Malvine, who had come in just behind Hogarth. "Haven't the two of us been slaving like teamsters, along with McBride and a whole army of engineers? That cursed Deflector has gone haywire! Why, I'll swear we diverted gravity enough to pull the earth halfway over to Venus. And what are the results? Nil. Precisely nil!" Wiley stood regarding his fellow plotters in silence. An unpleasant smirk formed itself upon his lips. "Well, don't worry, boys. In the long run, a day or two more or less won't matter." "No, I'll be cursed if it will!" growled Hogarth. "Nothing in hell will matter if we die along with everybody else!" Wiley gasped. "What makes you so damned cheerful?" "Well, how we going to save ourselves? I'm putting it to you straight, old man. What if we are world dictators? We're doomed like every beetle and rat on this crazy planet. The whole rotten globe is going to freeze!" "Afraid that's so," agreed Malvine, with a wry puckering of his long, fox-like face. "We've tried hard enough, but we've about shot our bolt. Frankly, there isn't any known principle by which we can get the Deflector working again." For the first time, a pallor had come across Wiley's features. He was the scheming brains of the firm, but had not kept up on his science, and always took his colleagues' word on technical matters. For a while, he remained silent, his saturnine face grave with thought. "By thunder," he finally broke out, "I'm not going to let myself die just yet--not when I've got the world in my hands! There's one man who'll be able to help out with that damned Deflector." "Who's your genius?" sneered Malvine. "Well, who but this fellow Holcomb?" "Holcomb?" "Of course. He's harmless now--but useless--in his underground storeroom. I'm for taking him out--under proper supervision. He'll know how to use the Deflector, if any man does!" Hogarth's gloom relaxed a bit. "Good!" he approved. "Can't do any harm to try. We've got to make damned sure, though, he doesn't get loose or communicate with his friends. I'd a thousand times rather shoot him like a yellow dog!" Wiley chuckled; and the hands of all three conspirators shot out in agreement. * * * * * Dan's face was pale after his long confinement. His cheeks were sunken, and had the smoldering look of deep suffering. But there was scorn in his manner as he faced his persecutors. "Yes, that's the story," Wiley was reiterating. "Guess we're not quite on to the ropes. If you'll work a little at the Deflector--" Dan glared at his tormentors, his eyes kindled with a fierce blue glitter. His chin was outthrust, but his manner was quiet as he replied, after a moment's hesitation, "Show me to the laboratory!" Wiley arose, and prepared to lead the way. "We'll give you one week!" he stipulated. "Exactly one week! By then, we'll expect you to show results!"