“No, there’s no hope of that, Jack. He’s dead; and the best thing one can say is that he must have been killed instantaneously. But he’s done the trick for us, if we can only follow his track. He evidently tapped atomic energy of some kind or other. Did you notice the sharpness of the explosion before you were knocked out? There’s never been anything like it.” “What’s going to happen now?” I was still unable to think clearly. “I’ve sent Mitchell down to Henley-Davenport’s house to look at his last notes--he kept them there and he promised me to indicate each day what he proposed to do next, so that we’d have something to go on if anything like this happened. Mitchell will ring up as soon as he has found them.” I heard afterwards that among the ruins of the laboratory Nordenholt had been struck by a falling beam and had just escaped with his life; but his voice gave no hint of it. I think that his complete concentration upon the main problem prevented him from realising that he might be badly hurt. The telephone bell rang suddenly and Nordenholt went to the receiver. “Yes, Mitchell.... You’ve got the notes?... Good.... You can repeat what he was doing?... No doubt about it?... All right. Start at once. We must have it immediately, cost what it may.... Come round here before you begin; but get going at once. There isn’t a minute to spare.” Nordenholt replaced the receiver. “I thought I could trust Henley-Davenport,” he said. “He’s left everything in order, notes written up to lunch-time complete and a full draft of his last experiment, which will allow Mitchell to carry on.” A few minutes later, Mitchell himself appeared and gave us some further details. In his jottings, Henley-Davenport had suggested some possible modifications of the experiment which had ended so disastrously; and Mitchell proposed to try the effect of these alterations in the conditions. Before he left us, he sat down at Nordenholt’s desk and made a few notes of the process he intended to try, handing the paper to Nordenholt when he had finished. I can still remember his alert expression as he wrote and the almost finical care with which he flicked the ash from the end of the cigarette as he rose from the desk. It was the last time any of us saw him. “Well, that’s all. I’m off.” Nordenholt rose stiffly from his chair and shook hands with Mitchell as he went out. Then he passed to the telephone and rang up a number. “Is that you, Kingan? Go across to the South Wing of the Chemistry place. Mitchell is there. See all that he does and then clear out before he tries the experiment. We must keep track of things, come what may. If he goes down, you will take on after him. Good-bye.” * * * * *