"Everything adds up," Rick Brant said grimly. "And it isn't a pretty picture."

Hartson Brant agreed. "It certainly seems to add up, Rick. I suggest you put those crystals in a safe place until we can find out for certain whether or not there is real value there."

"Is there any doubt?" Scotty asked.

David Riddle answered, "Yes, Scotty. There are many grades of diamonds. Until an expert takes a look at those Rick collected, we won't be sure that they're of gem quality. He may have industrial grade diamonds, of the type called bort."

"Connel may already have had an expert take a look," Weiss pointed out.

Rick examined the handful of crystals. It was hard to believe he had simply picked up diamonds like so many pebbles. What's more, he couldn't be sure whether he held a king's ransom in his hand or a few dollars' worth of industrial abrasives.

"Why didn't Connel clean out all diamonds in the area?" he demanded.

"How could he?" Hartson Brant retorted. "When has he had time for a real effort? I suspect he has picked up quite a few, but you found those just by kicking around, which would indicate he hasn't sifted that loose ground very thoroughly."

David Riddle frowned. "It's odd that Rick found so many. Perhaps he was lucky enough to kick open a pocket that Connel missed. Diamonds just don't occur with such frequency, even in Kimberley."

"They were pretty close together," Rick remembered. "It may have been a pocket, all right."

"There is one other possibility," Riddle added, "and it's staggering to think of it. These crystals may have come from a single large crystal. Perhaps the dynamite explosions shattered the big one into a number of smaller ones."

Scotty gulped. "But the original crystal would have had to be nearly the size of a grapefruit!"

"True, Scotty. There have been crystals that big, or close to it. Usually the diamond that is cut from such a crystal is much smaller. There is considerable loss. But it's a possibility."

Rick said abruptly, "I think we ought to sort of review the situation. To see where we stand."

"A good idea," his father agreed. "Suppose you start?"

Rick considered. "Well, Connel must have discovered the yellow ground the very first thing, probably while he was kicking a hole to lay the charge in. The reason I think so is because of Ruiz. That accident has always bothered me. Ruiz just wouldn't walk back to the charge while Connel was ready to set it off. He just wouldn't."

Julius Weiss asked, "Are you implying that Connel deliberately blew Ruiz up?"

"What else can we make of it?" Rick replied. "That kind of accident just doesn't happen. Not to an expert. But if Connel found the yellow ground while setting the charge, and took time to dig a little and be sure there was blue ground under it, he would certainly have known that he was standing on top of a volcanic pipe. He might even have picked up a crystal."

"If word got out, he couldn't exploit the pipe," Scotty added. "So, Ruiz had to be eliminated. It would have been pretty easy. Connel had the watch. He could have kept track of the time, then asked Ruiz to make a final check and set the charge off while the poor guy was taking a look at the connections."

"It could have happened that way," Hartson Brant agreed. "But I hate to think any human being could be so ruthless."

"Connel had to keep others away, too," Rick went on. "Also, he had to slow things down so he could have time to set something up to exploit his find. So, he stole the tracings and the dynamite. That bought him a little time, didn't it? Then he tried to get Scotty and me, because we were following him and he was afraid we might find out what was going on."

"It seems reasonable," Hartson Brant agreed.

"Connel couldn't develop a diamond field in a foreign place without help, could he? He had to let someone in on it, locally. He sized up Guevara and figured the lieutenant governor could certainly help him out, so he brought Guevara in on it."

"Pure speculation," Weiss said.

"Yes, sir. But it fits. Guevara certainly wouldn't want people running around over there, so it's to his advantage to keep us from operating. If he thinks there's a fortune in the pipe, it's even to his advantage to kidnap the governor to make sure we can't follow our plans!"

David Riddle shook his head. "A man would have to be insane to hold up an effort to save the island just to make himself rich."

"He would if he believed the island was in danger," Scotty agreed. "But suppose he doesn't? I don't think Connel has the true picture. His time estimate was much longer than yours, and he hasn't been in on many of the discussions."

The three scientists looked at each other. "You know," Riddle said, "Scotty is right. Connel has shown little interest in the magma flux. He may not have a true understanding of the situation at all!"

"It's possible." Hartson Brant nodded. "Quite possible. After all, we borrowed him only to have another experienced man to handle the shots. His training certainly doesn't qualify him to understand the physics involved. He has concentrated on locating oil deposits, using standard data. This kind of thing is new to him."

"We didn't get him to handle data analysis," Weiss remarked. "There are enough of us who can do that."

Rick picked up his argument again. "If Connel doesn't believe there are only a couple of weeks, he would give the lieutenant governor his views, and he'd be believed, just because Guevara is so greedy he would believe anything that will make him rich. Of course I don't know for sure that Guevara is like that, but he certainly brushed us off, didn't he? And he didn't seem surprised when you told him about the danger."

"The thing that bothers me," Scotty stated, "is why Connel and Guevara haven't started to mine the diamonds."

"It takes organization," Rick pointed out. "Also, it couldn't be done while the governor was around, could it? He'd be sure to get wind of it. Connel and Guevara have to keep this quiet, or there will be a rush that will make the Klondike look like a picnic."

Scotty nodded. "That must be why they put a guard up there, too. Probably just one trusted man, who has to make the rounds alone. We were lucky he was on his rounds when we got there, or we'd never have had a chance for a close look."

"Well," Julius Weiss demanded, "what do we do now?"

A sudden earth tremor made the group pause. It lasted only a few seconds.

"Whatever we do, we'd better do it fast," Hartson Brant stated.

"Find the governor," Rick said. "That's the first thing. We can't move unless we have official backing, and we certainly won't get it from Guevara!"

Esteben Balgos walked in, closely followed by Brad Connel. "We placed the instruments without difficulty," Balgos began—and Connel's eye caught sight of the kimberlite samples on the table. The geologist realized instantly that his secret was known, and he knew, too, the conclusions that would be drawn. Among other things, he was guilty of the attempted murder of Ruiz.

Connel bolted for the door.

The geologist was fast, but Scotty was faster. The dark-haired boy charged across the room, then dove headlong. His extended arms caught the fleeting geologist around the thighs, then Scotty's shoulder smashed into him. Connel went down like a tackled ball carrier. Before he could recover, Scotty had shifted his grip and the geologist was helpless in a punishing hold.

The scientists and Rick arrived a split second later.

"Let him up," Riddle ordered. "But keep a grip on him."

Scotty did so, and the geologist glared at the group with angry eyes. He didn't try to bluff; he knew it was useless.

Rick hurried to find the hotel manager, who directed them to a tool closet on the outside of the hotel near the parking lot. It had no windows, a single, small ventilating duct, and only one door. Connel was pushed inside, and the door locked. Hartson Brant pocketed the key.

"He'll have to stay there until we find the governor and arrange for trustworthy policemen," the scientist said. "I'm certain those who have been guarding the dynamite are all right, but we'd better have the governor's word for it."

Rick agreed with the precaution.

While Esteben Balgos was being briefed on the day's happenings, Zircon and Williams arrived and had to be briefed, too. Twice, small earth temblors interrupted the conference.

"Something is happening below us," Balgos said. "I wish we knew exactly what!"

The magma was pushing up relentlessly, melting its way into the channels Williams had marked on his sketch. In one of the channels was a large pocket in which water had collected over the centuries. Perhaps there was enough water to fill a substantial pond, perhaps even a small lake. There was also room in the porous rock for expansion, because the pocket was not entirely full. The magma neared the pocket, meeting small quantities of water on its way. Each meeting resulted in a small explosion, and a temblor that was felt far above.

Then—the magma's heat turned the pocket itself to steam. The steam expanded in a mighty explosion that sent great shock waves smashing through the earth.

Rick Brant's chair went over backward and he fell to a floor that was shaking like soft mud under him. He heard the crashing of glassware and the sounds of furniture falling. And he heard the ominous rumble of the building itself, splitting, cracking, falling.

"Out!" Hartson Brant yelled. "Get outside!"

Rick scrambled to hands and knees and saw that Scotty was bending to pick him up. He waved his pal away and got to his feet, fighting to keep his balance on the shaking floor. He was scared stiff, but far from paralyzed. Nor did he lose his head. He made sure the scientists were on their way before he followed them through the nearest door.

"Back!" Scotty yelled.

The group paused as a section of building cornice crashed to the ground just outside. Dust billowed. Scotty sprang through the opening and looked up.

"Okay," he called. "Come on!"

The Spindrifters poured through the doorway out onto the parking lot. They were in time to see another section of cornice break loose and fall to the ground. Hotel employees were pouring out, too, gathering in the parking lot beyond the reach of the crumbling hotel.

Rick saw a great gap appear in one wall and waited breathlessly for the wall to fall, but it held. The ground still shook under his feet, and his insides were producing the queasy symptoms of motion sickness. Then the earth steadied again, leaving only a mild temblor that soon vanished.

The group looked at each other, white-faced. The earthquake had been by far the worst yet. There was even some doubt that the hotel was still safe. Rick, seeing the manager busy counting noses to make sure all his employees were out, gasped, "Connel!"

Hartson Brant ran for the tool closet, the others behind him. The scientist reached for the key, ready to let Connel out.

The wall was tilted crazily. The door had sprung wide open.

Connel was gone!