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couple of feet, then drop again. There was a lift here of several tons, but one had to be careful in using it.
    The rope twanged, the woodwork groaned and creaked, and for a moment Tibor was afraid that the weakened line would part too soon. But it held, and the load lifted. They got a further hoist on the second roll—and on the third. Then the capsule was clear of the sea bed, and the Arafura was listing slightly to port.
    ‘Let’s go,’ said Nick, taking the wheel. ‘Should be able to get her half a mile before she bumps again.’
    The lugger began to move slowly toward the island, carrying its hidden burden beneath it. As he leaned on the rails, letting the sun steam the moisture from his sodden clothing, Tibor felt at peace for the first time in—how many months? Even his hate had ceased to burn like fire in his brain. Perhaps, like love, it was a passion that could never be satisfied; but for the moment, at least, it was satiated.
    There was no weakening of his resolve; he was implacably set upon the vengeance that had been so strangely—so miraculously—placed within his power. Blood called for blood, and now the ghosts that haunted him might rest at last. Yet he felt strange sympathy, even pity, toward the unknown man through whom he could now strike back at the enemies who had once been his friends. He was robbing them of much more than a single life—for what was one man, even a highly trained scientist—to the Russians? What he was taking from them was power and prestige and knowledge, the things they valued most.
    He began to worry when they were two thirds of the way to the island, and the rope had not parted. There were still four hours to go, and that was much too long For the first time it occurred to him that his entire plan might miscarry, and might even recoil on his head. Suppose that, despite everything Nick managed to get the capsule up on the beach before the deadline?
    With a deep ‘twang’ that set the whole ship vibrating, the rope came snaking out of the water, scattering spray in all directions.
    ‘Might have guessed,’ muttered Nick. ‘She was just starting to bump. You like to go down again, or shall I send one of the boys?’
    ‘I’ll take it,’ Tibor hastily answered. ‘I can do it quicker than they can.’
    That was perfectly true, but it took him twenty minutes to locate the capsule. The Arafura had drifted well away from it before Nick could stop the engine, and there was a time when Tibor wondered if he would ever find it again. He quartered the sea bed in great arcs, and it was not until he had accidentally tangled in the trailing parachute that his search was ended. The shrouds lay pulsating slowly in the current like some weird and hideous marine monster—but there was nothing that Tibor feared now except frustration, and his pulse barely quickened as he saw the whitely looming mass ahead.
    The capsule was scratched and stained with mud, but appeared undamaged. It was lying on its side now, looking rather like a giant milk churn that had been tipped over. The passenger must have been bumped around, but if he’d fallen all the way back from the moon, he must have been well padded and was probably still in good shape. Tibor hoped so; it would be a pity if the remaining three hours were wasted.
    Once again he rested the verdigrised copper of his helmet against the no-longer-quite-so-brightly-gleaming metal of the capsule.
    ‘Hello!’ he shouted. ‘Can you hear me?’
    Perhaps the Russian would try to balk him by remaining silent—but that, surely, was asking too much of any man’s self-control. Tibor was right; almost at once there was the sharp knock of the reply.
    ‘So glad you’re there,’ he called back. ‘Things are working out just the way I said. though I guess I’ll have to cut the rope a little deeper.’
    The capsule did not answer. It never answered again, though Tibor banged and banged on the next dive—and on the next. But he hardly expected it to