"Yes--of course. There's the problem of keeping everything secret but I'm sure we can manage it. The workers won't know what they're doing, Dr. Stevens, and I can do all the really technical work. And there'll be only one trustee each generation to keep his eye on things, starting with me." Stevens was leaning forward, wearing a somewhat bewildered expression. "But I thought--but surely after we demonstrate that suspended animation is feasible and we've verified our results, we'll publish?" Seeing the odd-faces the other two were pulling, he repeated plaintively, "I always publish." H.D. Haworth pronounced a certain four-letter word. Garibaldi Jones cast his eyes to the heavens and tore his hair, coming away empty-handed, of course. "Well, what's wrong with that?" Stevens snapped, a little color in his face. "Don't the people have a right to know?" "Young man," quavered H.D., tottering to his feet and shaking the bony forefinger, "what you know about people I could stick in my--" "Wait a minute, Mr. Haworth," Garry soothed. "Let me explain to Dr. Stevens how it is. Please don't excite yourself. Remember," he coaxed, "we don't want a heart attack _now_, do we?" The old man collapsed into his chair with a feeble curse. "Look, Ellsworth, old man," Garry said kindly. "The last thing in the world we want to do is keep anything from humanity. _You_ know Mr. Haworth is the biggest philanthropist in the world. But in this case--well, it's dangerous. "What do you think would happen if people found out a few rich men were sleeping in quartz coolers while they had nothing but mouldy graves to look forward to? Why, man, they'd tear our vault down with their bare hands!" H.D. was nodding, muttering something about blasted riff-raff, but Garry saw Stevens' look of contempt. "But that's not the main thing," he said hastily. "It wouldn't be good for the country--in fact the world couldn't stand it. Once people were convinced, everybody would demand a frigidaire instead of a coffin. Not many could be made and people would plot and steal and kill to get theirs and religious people would fight against it. "There'd be fakers and stock promotions all over. The nation's economy would be wrecked. People would take their money with them or leave it as savings at compound interest while they slept for a few centuries. Think of the harm it would do, man--think of the people who are happy now, whose lives would be embittered with vain hopes!" * * * * * Haworth's head was bobbing on his scrawny neck. "That's right, young fellow, and that ain't the half of it!" He cackled. "Almost like to get a finger in that pie myself. "The insurance companies would be the ones for it, of course. Twenty-year endowment and, instead of paying you, they pickle you. But it's too risky, too risky--you see that, don't you, my boy?" Stevens sighed unhappily. "I suppose so," he said, defeated.