"See?" Butler shouted wildly. "He knows we're going to die out there. He knows it isn't there."

Rita O'Neill's eyes blazed. "You ought to send them home," she said to Cartwright.

"It's a racket," McLean muttered ominously.

"It is not a racket!" Groves retorted. His dark face flushed. "The Society has never been a racket."

"It'd be nice," Bill Konklin said, "if you could tell us a little more. It seems unfair to send us off without some kind of an explanation."

"You'll know one of these days." Cartwright said quietly.

He was going to say more but Rita O'Neill suddenly pushed against him to thrust a sliver of sealed metal foil in his hand.

"From Sam Oster." The look on her face told him what it was. "Code-monitored from his first television transmission."

Cartwright slit the plastic seal and examined the metal foil. Then he stuffed it into his pocket.

"There's nothing more," he said sharply to the group. "Collect your personal possessions and climb into the cars. I'm not going with you. Good-bye and good luck."

Nat Gardner's eyes blazed with fury. "You're not even coming down to the field?"His sluggish brain moved into action as he started resentfully towards Cartwright.

"Take it easy," Konklin said. Groves moved up to him, and Gardner reluctantly stopped. "Keep your hands to yourself."

Doctor Flood grinned slyly at Cartwright. "You had everybody fooled—even me." Behind his thick glasses his eyes danced knowingly. "And the supply rooms—they're full of sand, I suppose?"

Groves headed for the exit slot. "The ship's ready to take off."

A few of the group collected their things and followed him, still darting baffled, uncertain glances at Cartwright.

Cartwright stood with his hands in his pockets, saying nothing and waiting for them to leave. A few lingered.