"Doesn't it?" The patient gave an abrupt laugh. "Money buys people,
Dr. Rostov. It buys loyalty and disloyalty. It buys friends and sells
enemies. All these are commodities, Doctor. I found that out--the hard
way."
"Mr. Monk, you don't know what I'm telling you. Your heart action is
unreliable, and no amount of dollars can bring it back to normal--"
The industrialist stood up. "You think the heart is incorruptible,
eh?" He snorted. "Well, I think different. Someplace on earth there's
a man or a method that can fix me up. It'll take money to find the
answer, that's for sure. But I'll find it!"
Rostov put out his hand helplessly. "You're being unreasonable, Mr.
Monk. There is nothing on earth--"
"_All right!_" Fletcher Monk shouted. "So maybe there's nothing on
Earth!" His body trembled with his emotion. "Then I'll go to the
stars, if I have to!"
* * * * *