happened. The mind-reading gadget had been a device created in her own subconscious, a psychological trick to by-pass the dream that had held her imprisoned. She knew enough psychology to understand that.

She ran her fingers through Walt's dark hair and repeated softly,

"I love you, Walt Gordon."

Was it an illusion? I believe that, Bill, because later on, when I thought of using the grapple, I brought the Semantic-Translator back from nowhere. Apparently the smaller gadget had been in the console or behind it. I hadn't seen it when I searched, because my eyes had been hurt by the glare of light.

In the process the Translator somehow got twisted around, for the chute dragged it back vertically through the coil of wire. It touched the wall of the cylinder, and the whole machine exploded.

It was impossible to save anything from the wreckage. But as a physicist I assure you, Bill, the transposition of matter into light is, in terms of our present science, a physical impossibility. It is certainly not the sort of invention that could have been produced by a senile old man, pottering around in a home laboratory. The only thing I regret is that I had no opportunity to examine the Semantic-Translator, but I'm sure it would have proved just as much nonsense.

I'm going up to Yosemite tomorrow for a couple of weeks. If you want any further details on the Price inventory, look me up at the office when I come home.

Yours, Walt Gordon

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