"Ohhh, I'm sorry, sir," the announcer said sadly. "The basic formula for the manufacture of the atomic bomb is: _E_ equals _m_ times _c_ squared. But you still have your fifty thousand dollars; congratulations and better luck next time." Phil Merriwether blinked. He could hardly believe it. He _knew_ his answer was right. There must be a mistake. But no amount of argument did him any good. Within fifteen minutes, he was out on the street. The studio had promised that the check would be deposited to his account in the morning. Phil shrugged and went home. * * * * * At midnight, Philip Merriwether woke up suddenly to see the glare of a flashlight being shone in his face. "Are you Philip Merriwether?" growled a voice. "Yes, I am. What's the meaning of this?" The lights in the room went on to reveal five men with drawn guns standing outside the door. As they came into the room, the man with the flashlight flicked it off. "Search the room," he said to the others. As they methodically began their search, Phil said: "What's going on here? Who are you?" "FBI," snapped the man who was obviously the leader of the group. "Are you sure you're Philip Merriwether? We'll be taking your fingerprints shortly, so it won't do you any good to lie." "Certainly I'm me!" Phil snapped, irritated. "What makes you think I'm not?" "Never mind," said the Federal agent. The truth was that Merriwether no longer looked like the lackluster character he had been a few weeks before. His eyes had a sparkle to them, his body had more springiness. He looked more alive. He was no longer the colorless man he had been. "Nothing unusual in the room, sir," said one of the men who had been searching. "Okay," said the leader to Merriwether, "put on your clothes. You're coming with us." "You can't arrest me!" Phil said. "I haven't done anything. What is the charge?" "Espionage," said the FBI man without blinking an eyelid. They put him in a big, powerful Cadillac and drove him through the streets of Washington to an office building near the Capitol. Most of the city was asleep, but this building was ablaze with light. The FBI men parked the car and led Phil into the building. They were greeted by a reception committee the like of which Phil had never seen before. Two generals, including the Chief of Staff, a couple of admirals, an Air Force general, and a half dozen important-looking civilians, one of whom Phil recognized as the Secretary of Defense himself! They sat Phil down in a chair without a word, and just looked at him for a few seconds; then the Secretary of Defense said: "What do you know about the Q-beam?" "The Q-beam," Phil told him, "is a top-secret weapon. It is a ray which is capable of paralyzing without killing, and can operate over a distance of several hundred miles. The basic formula is--" "Never mind what it is!" snapped the Chief of Staff. "The whole United States heard you give it out over the air this evening!"