His voice came hoarsely, strangely formed. And he looked wildly about him. He saw, off in the distance, a glowing of lights in the night. And he knew somehow that it was the city of Tucson. And in that city, at its very edge, was a house he must reach. He stumbled away into the darkness, feeling his limbs move rapidly then, smoothly, covering the ground in great leaping strides. And though Gaddon's thoughts kept the balance of control, deep inside his mind, the monster growled with a cunning laughter ... * * * * * Fred Trent pulled the last sheet of paper from his typewriter and leaned back in his chair exhausted. That was it, the end of the story. He waved his hand at a copy boy and the boy ran up to take the final page. Each sheet had been taken like that, to be immediately set in the composing room. Now it was finished, the story of the year. And as Trent slowly lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, he knew that he had done a good job on the story. And a smile crossed his face as he thought of it. His future was assured now. There could be no more stopgaps, no more delays in his plans to marry Joan and settle down. And the girl would have to agree. For the first time in many months, Fred felt that his troubles were over with. And the feeling was nice. It spread through him and he was content. He glanced at his wrist watch and frowned. The story had taken longer than he had anticipated. It was nearly eleven. Some of the enthusiasm ran out of him as he thought of Joan waiting for him at Fenwick's. He could imagine how angry she must be by now. He got up quickly from his desk and reached for his hat. As he started to walk away, the phone on his desk rang. He stepped back and picked up the receiver. "Trent speaking." "_Fred!_" Trent heard his name uttered in terror across the wire and he felt a chill run through him as he recognized the voice. It was Joan Drake. "Joan, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Fred! Come quickly! Bring help before it's too late--he'll kill us!" "Joan! For God's sake, calm down! Now what's the matter?" His voice held a tenseness in it as he spoke. "It's Gaddon, Fred! Only it isn't Gaddon--it's a monster! He'll kill us!" "_Gaddon?_" Trent's voice spoke incredulously. "But that's imposs--" "Oh, Fred, hurry-- I--oh--no--no! Keep away--" He heard the girl scream over the phone then. And he heard something else. A growling sound. A sound of animal noise unlike any other sound he had ever heard. And then as he shouted into the phone: "Joan! Joan!" the line went dead. He stood for a moment, staring stupidly at the receiver in his hand. Then he slammed it back on its cradle and turned. He nearly knocked over the copy boy who hollered at him. "Hey, Trent, the boss wants you in his office!" But he swept by the boy unheeding. He didn't wait for the elevator. He took the stairs in leaping bounds, and then he was on the main floor of the building and out on the street.