dead. Something within him throbbed like electricity, and he sent a bolt of mental energy at Wagner's head. The shock of the emotional concussion brought blood bursting from Wagner's nostrils and eye sockets. A red tide poured from his lips. His head dropped loosely and Buckmaster knew that Wagner was dead even before he fell from his chair. Buckmaster sat astounded at the demonstration of power. He sat for a moment listening to the inner voice that sent up its answers to his silent questions. No, it hadn't been able to help him before. Its power was not physical. No, it could not help him escape. From here he was on his own. The only satisfaction he received was the closer entity he had found between himself and the Force. It seemed to him now that it did not come from the outside. Rather it was an essential part of himself. Or, more exactly, he was a part of that Force. Buckmaster worked his wrists backwards in their thongs until he forced the leather straps over the bases of his hands. Thus he was able to bend his wrists. Slowly, painfully, he brought up his right leg until his foot rested next to his right hand. The left foot next. Once he almost lost his balance. But at last he stood with his feet straddling his hands. He exerted all the strength of his leg, arm, and trunk muscles. The pain from his broken arm was a sickening thing but slowly the leather bands began to tear loose from the rivets that held them. A last mighty exertion and he was free. Wagner had a private elevator. Buckmaster entered and went to a ground floor. He walked out of the building through a tradesmen's entrance into a dusky alley. Keeping his good arm in front of his face he staggered around the corner and into a drugstore and reached a phone booth without being observed. He put in a call and crouched in the phone booth for the ten long minutes it took Oliver to come for him. "Two weeks aren't very long to get you well, Clifford," Oliver said, "but I'm afraid it's all the time we have. I'm sorry." "You did your best," Buckmaster answered, "At least you've got me pretty well patched up." "The last reports were that the police have drawn a ring around this district, and that they're closing in." "Do we have any way out?" "I hate to have to say this," Oliver said slowly. "But the rest of us can get out--if we don't take you with us." Buckmaster had expected this. It seemed that he had known from the beginning that he would never live to see the end of this adventure. "It's all right. Is there anything I can do to help?" "No. They won't stop us if you aren't along. You're the man they're after. If there were any way I could help you by staying, I'd never leave. But I'd only be captured with you, and nothing gained." "Of course I understand." Buckmaster rested his hand for 

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