"Assorted oddments," Danchekker said, looking along the bench. "The documents are made from a kind of plasticized fiber. Fragments of print and handwriting are visible in places—quite unintelligible, of course. The material has deteriorated severely and tends to disintegrate at the slightest touch." He nodded toward Hunt. "This is another area where we hope to learn as much as we can with the Trimagniscope before we risk anything else." He pointed to the remaining articles and listed them without further elaboration. "Pen-size torch; some kind of pocket flamethrower, we think; knife; pen-size electric pocket drill with a selection of bits in the handle; food and drink containers—they connect via valves in the tubes inside the lower part of the helmet; pocket folder, like a wallet—too fragile to open; changes of underclothes; articles for personal hygiene; odd pieces of metal, purpose unknown. There were also a few electronic devices in the pockets; they have been sent elsewhere along with the rest."

The party halted on the way back to the door to gather around the scarlet space suit, which had been reassembled on a life-size dummy standing on a small plinth. At first sight the proportions of the figure seemed to differ subtly from those of an average man, the build being slightly on the stocky side and the limbs a little short for the height of about five feet, six inches. However, since the suit was not designed for a close fit, it was difficult to be sure. Hunt noticed the soles of the boots were surprisingly thick.

"Sprung interior," Danchekker supplied, following his gaze.

"What's that?"

"It's quite ingenious. The mechanical properties of the sole material vary with applied pressure. With the wearer walking at normal speed, the sole would remain mildly flexible. Under impact, however—for example, if he jumped—it assumes the characteristics of a stiff spring. It's an ideal device for kangarooing along in lunar gravity—utilizing conditions of reduced weight but normal inertia to advantage."

"And now, gentlemen," said Caldwell, who had been following events with evident satisfaction, "the moment I guess you've been waiting for—let's have a look at Charlie himself."

An elevator took them down to the subterranean levels of the institute. They emerged into a somber corridor of white-tiled walls and white lights, and followed it to a large metal door. Danchekker pressed his thumb against a glass plate set into the wall and the door slid silently aside on recognition of his print. At the same time, a diffuse but brilliant white glow flooded the room inside.