[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories December 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
CHAPTER I
Tempalloy
Tony Morrow looked around the bench for a piece of brass and found aproper-sized chunk handy. That saved him a trip to the stockroom. Hechucked it up in a vise, picked up a file, and set the teeth of thefile against the chunk of brass to shape it. He pushed.
The file slid across the bit of brass as though there were no teeth.The end of the file went past without resistance and the vise jaws tooka chunk of skin off Tony's knuckles.
He made appropriate and unprintable comment, inspected the filecuriously and tried again—but with restraint. This time he skinnedanother knuckle but not so badly. He tried another file and even morerestraint.
The result was the same. The file skidded across the bit of brasswithout touching it.
It was like—Tony Morrow remembered his first day in the machine shopas a kid—like trying to file a wrist pin.
He picked up a center-punch and a hammer. He set the punch against thebrass and belted the top a good whack with the hammer. The top fudgedover a bit—that was intentionally soft. The point blunted—that wasintentionally hard. The brass did not even show a bright spot beneaththe point of contact. He tried a hacksaw with a new blade. No result.Swearing, Tony Morrow took the bit of brass and placed it between thejaws of a power shears. He pressed the button and the shears camedown—hard.
The knife shattered—a huge chip sprang out of the cutting edge whereit struck the bit of brass. The heavy motor ground to a shuddering haltand the frame of the shears gave slightly.
"Mur-der!" he breathed.
Andy Cleve was watching this from the other side of his lathe.
"What have you got there, Tony?" he asked.
Tony shook his head. "Brass," he said doubtfully.
Andy grunted. If that bit had been brass any of Tony's machinationswould have been successful. Nothing could touch the bit of metal, ergoit could not be brass.
Andy looked on, permissibly forgetting his lathe. The tool had run outbeyond the work, coming inexorably toward the four-jawed chuck. Finallyit touched. The jaw came around as the tool moved to the left and thearea of contact was less than five one thousandths of an inch.
Normally, this would have produced a cut on the jaw of the chuck and ahoot of derision from any machinist who saw another scar a lathe chuck.
But the scant contact stopped the lathe. There was a foul screech fromthe series of belts that turned the lathe, the back gears complained,the motor grunted once and stalled. The lights went dim until a fuseblew, taking the power off of the stalled motor.
Andy looked at the hung-up chuck and saw the scant interference thathad stopped the lathe.
"I've got it too," he said in an awed voice. "Something has made thischuck harder than a pawnbroker's heart!"
Andy Cleve and Tony Morrow headed for the front office on a dead run....
James Greene held a match for the girl's cigarette and then applied theflame to his briar. He leaned back with a puzzled smile and started totell the girl what he knew.
"We think we may have it licked," he said. "We'll know later."
Leona Holden smiled graciously. "I hope so," she told him. "ThoughI know all too little of this sort of thing. Dad talks as thougheverybody knows all the answers—leaving out far too much of theuninteresting d