atty was right. The only thing he had left was honor, and in only one
way could he retain it.

With the fiery clarity burning in his brain he struggled from where he
lay and picked up the metallic mirror and hung it from the post near the
bed. He turned up the broken table against the wall. Then, with the air
of one who has not been on the premises for a long time he began
searching through the long unused chests stacked in the corner. The
contents were for the most part in a state of decay, but he found his
straight edged razor in the oiled pouch where he had last placed it.

There should have been shaving detergent, but he couldn't find it. He
contented himself with preparing hot water, then slowly and painfully
hacked the thick beard away and scraped his face clean. He found a comb
and raked it through his tangled mat of hair, arranging it in some vague
resemblance to the cut he used to wear.

From the chests he drew forth the dress uniform he had put away so long
ago. Fortunately, it had been in the center, surrounded by other
articles so that it was among the best preserved of his possessions. He
donned it in place of the rags he wore. The shoes were almost completely
hard from lack of care, but he put them on anyway and brushed the toes
with a scrap of cloth.

From underneath his bed he took his one possession which he had kept in
meticulous repair, his service pistol. Then he stood up, buttoning and
smoothing his coat, and smiled at himself in the little mirror. But his
gaze shifted at once to something an infinity away.

"'Do not, above all, betray that honor.' At least you gave us one good
piece of advice, fatty," he said.

Carefully, he raised the pistol to his head.

* * * * *

Hull number four was erect and self-supporting. Its shell enclosure was
complete except for necessary installation openings. And in Number One
the installations were complete and the ship's first test flight was
scheduled for tomorrow morning.

John Ashby looked from the third story window of his office toward the
distant assembly yards on the other side of the field. The four hulls
stood like golden flames in the afternoon sunlight. Ashby felt defeated
by the speed with which the ships were being completed. It was almost as
if the engineers had a special animosity toward him, which they
expressed in their unreasonable speed of construction. This was
nonsense, of course. They had a job to do and