This voice repeated, word for word and intonation for intonation, exactly what it had said before.  The other voices followed in the same order.  They were taped.

In Lockley’s state of mind, the taping took away all authority from the voices.  Jill, in particular, sounded as she might have if torture had been used to break her will and force her to say what her captors wished.  She could not put any warning into it, because she could have been forced to repeat and repeat the message until her captors were satisfied.

That would all be avenged now.  All of it.  And Jill would be grateful to Lockley even if they never saw each other again; grateful for the monstrous blast that would wipe this place clean of living creatures.

Lockley suddenly saw a way by which his vengeance could be increased by just a little.  It could be made even more satisfying and just.  Hiding under brushwood while the voices tirelessly repeated their recorded persuasion, he made a very simple device.  It switched onto the instrument he carried.  If his hand clenched, it would go on.  If his hand relaxed, it would go on.  So if he could get within a hundred and twenty-five yards of the rocket he could show himself and let them know what waited for them, and why.

With infinite patience he got to a place almost near the circle of unarmed guards about the rocket.  He waited.  The guards were tense.  They did not like trying to protect something with no weapons.  They were jumpy.  The endlessly repeated messages booming into the night frayed their nerves.  They were plainly on edge.

Their tenseness made the oldest trick in the world serve Lockley’s purpose.  He threw a stone from an especially dark shadow.  It struck and bounced upon another stone, and it created a rustling of brushwood at a place distant from Lockley.  And the unarmed guards plunged for that place to seize whatever or whoever had made the disturbance.

They were too eager.  They stumbled upon each other.

And Lockley ran, and a voice cried out in terror.  And then Lockley stood with his back to the rocket’s lower parts, and he waved the cheese grater derisively and shouted.

Then there was stillness.  Only the booming voice from the speakers went on.  It happened to be Sattell’s voice.

“_ ... all right.  It’s perfectly all right.  When you understand you’ll realize that you had to be deceived as I was.  It was necessary.  Come out and everything—­”

Somebody cut off the recorder.  There was a moment of blank indecision, and then a man in uniform with two general’s stars on his shoulders came out of somewhere and walked to face Lockley.

“Ah, Lockley!” he said briskly.  “That’s the thing you smash cars and explode ammunition with, eh?  Do you think it will blow the rocket?”

“I’m going to try it!” said Lockley.  “Listen.”  He showed how anything that could be done to him would close the switch one way or the other.  “I wanted you to know before I blow it!” he said fiercely.  “Where’s Jill?  Jill Holmes?  One of your cars picked her up and brought her here.  Where is she?”