"Henry!" I implored. "If I could only see you for a few minutes--"

"No!" he said, and shut the door. A second later, I heard the bar shoved into its slot.

There was nothing unusual in Henry locking himself in his bathroom, for he had the distressful habit of sitting in his bath-tub, by the hour, smoking and thinking. His bathroom seemed to be the only quiet retreat in the castle which afforded the complete solitude and privacy necessary for the employment of his brain cells. He felt that here he could relax, just as Napoleon did, after undue fatigue, dictating letters and giving important military orders from his steaming bath-tub.

I have often wondered where Sir Isaac Newton was sitting, at his home in Woolsthorpe, England, when the fall of an apple, so legend tells us, suggested the most magnificent of his discoveries, the law of universal gravitation. There is no evidence to refute that he was sitting in one of those queer, early English bath-tubs, looking out of the bathroom window, at his apple orchard.

I never see Rodin's famous sculpture, "The Thinker," but I am reminded of Henry, sitting in his bath-tub, thinking and thinking, especially during the early part of the eventful summer of which I write.

Evidently some fresh idea had come to him while in his bath on the evening I persisted in assailing his peace of mind. With startling suddenness he donned his bath-robe, rushed to the telephone, and communicated with Olinski. As quickly as possible, the next day, they got to work on Henry's idea. Then problems began to straighten themselves out. As to what they had discovered, they said nothing at the moment.

Soon after, however, an avalanche of adventure, mystery and excitement came thunderously down upon us, throwing our lives into chaos.I had no sooner turned my gaze on the ruined lighthouse when a big bat swooped down at me out of the darkness. Only the night before, one of them had got into my bedroom. I've never been able to overcome my early fear of these nocturnal flying mammals. To my childish imagination, they were the very spirits of evil. I was in no mood this night to be pestered by them. A vague uneasiness possessed me, an uneasiness caused on one hand by Henry's strained and haggard look, and on the other, by his encouraging Prince Matani's attentions to Pat.

Perhaps at the moment, his crazy quest in interstellar communication annoyed me most. I had already suggested to Jane that we send him to a 

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