"If you're so damn smart, why ain't you rich?" That hoary wisecrack must have been all of three centuries old when Wolf Carmichael pulled it on Dr. Claud Kellog. The Wolf of Saturn loved it and used it often. That day he lay back in his swivel chair, chuckling offensively somewhere in the fatty depths of his triple chin, as he threw it. But his roving, piggish eyes showed no mirth. They were hard and scheming, the ruthless eyes that had made him master of all commerce and industry throughout the