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At last the door gave way, and Johansson breathlessly burst into the room. But he saw to his shock and horror that he was too late. There lay the lovely Dierdre, lifeless.

"No!" screamed Johansson, crumpling to his knees beside the prostrate girl. For the second time in his life, the woman he loved lay dead, and once again the tragedy had directly resulted from his very efforts to help and protect her. "No!" he sobbed, again and again. Bitterly, impotently, he cursed his fate--the nightmare of guilt and loneliness he would be condemned to live out for the rest of his days.

Soon, however, his mind began to wander. "I wonder if the U.S. will go it alone?" he mused.