And now behold! Between the first tap and the second I was off and away among the stars, clad in fleecy garments, touching each star as I passed in my pursuit of the formulae that would explain the last mystery of life.

And, as before, I pursued the quest for centuries.

Then came the summons, the stamp of the hoof of doom, the exquisite disruptive agony, and again I was back in my cell in San Quentin.

It was the second tap of Ed Morrell's knuckle.

The interval between it and the first tap could have been no more than a fifth of a second.