"I had the advantage of being in love with you, Frances. I've watched you closely, very closely. We'll have a few weeks or months before they discover that you phonied information to goad our men into space. We've got time enough for a honeymoon, Frances." The phone rang. Damn Alexander Graham Bell! I thought. I picked the monster up and barked hello. It was the Secretary of Commerce. I introduced myself. He deigned to relay his message through me. "Please inform Dr. von Munger that her department has been transferred to the Department of Air Force at White Sands, New Mexico," the Secretary said. "She and you are to report there immediately." I thanked the man nicely and hung up. Frances was standing now. "We're going to White Sands," I told her. "We're going to help see that the man in the moon is American." Frances took the drink out of my hand and set it on the bookcase to free my arms for holding her. "Maybe, Frank," she said, "the first man on Mars will be Huguenard. I'll be proud to assist you in that project."