Transcriber's Note:
This e-text was produced from the September 1960 issue of If.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfullyas possible.
By H. B. FYFE
Finding his way out of thismaze was only half the job.
The Wedge
[Page 51]
When the concealed gongsounded, the man sittingon the floor sighed. He continued,however, to slumploosely against the curving,pearly plastic of the wall, andtook care not to glance towardthe translucent ovals heknew to be observationpanels.
He was a large man, butthin and bony-faced. Hisdirty gray coverall bore thename “Barnsley” upon grimywhite tape over the heart. Exceptat the shoulders, it lookedtoo big for him. His hair wasdark brown, but the sandyginger of his two-week beardseemed a better match for hisblue eyes.
Finally, he satisfied thesoftly insistent gong by standingup and gazing in turn ateach of the three doors spacedaround the cylindrical chamber.He deliberately adoptedan expression of simple-mindedanticipation as he ambledover to the nearest one.
The door was round, aboutfour feet in diameter, and setin a flattened part of the wallwith its lower edge tangentwith the floor. Rods about twoinches thick projected ahand's breadth at four, eight,and twelve o'clock. The markingsaround them suggestedthat each could be rotatedto three different positions.Barnsley squatted on his heelsto study these.
Noting that all the rodswere set at the position hehad learned to think of as“one,” he reached out totouch the door. It felt slightlywarm, so he allowed his fingertipsto slide over the upperhandle. A tentative tug producedno movement of thedoor.
“That's it, though,” hemumbled quietly. “Well, nowto do our little act with theothers!”
He moved to the seconddoor, where all the rods were[Page 52] set at “two.” Here he fell tomanipulating the rod handles,pausing now and then toshove hopefully against thedoor. Some twenty minuteslater, he tried the same routineat the third door.
Eventually, he returned tohis starting point and rotatedthe rods there at random fora few minutes. Having, apparentlyby accident, arrangedthem in a sequence ofone-two-three, he contrived tolean against the door at thecrucial instant. As it gave beneathhis weight, he grabbedthe two lower handles andpushed until the door rose toa horizontal position levelwith its hinged top. It settledthere with a loud click.
Barnsley stooped tocrawl through into anarched passage of the samepearly plastic. He straightenedup and walked along forabout twenty feet, flashing awhite-toothed grin throughhis beard while mutteringcurses behind it. Presently, hearrived at a small, round bay,to be confronted by threemore doors.
“Bet there's a dozen of youthree-eyed clods peeping atme,” he growled. “How'd youlike me to poke a bootthrough the panel in front ofyou and kick you blubber-balls