he said. "You Terrans are
the last to leave our planet. Most of you are ordinary and harmless-- I
am not interested in you. I am interested in finding three saboteurs,
three Terrans, two men and a woman, who have committed an incredible act
of destruction and violence. They are said to have fled to this ship."

Murmurs of surprise and indignation broke out on all sides. The Leiter
motioned the soldiers to follow him up the aisle.

"Two hours ago a Martian city was destroyed. Nothing remains, only a
depression in the sand where the city was. The city and all its people
have completely vanished. An entire city destroyed in a second! Mars
will never rest until the saboteurs are captured. And we know they are
aboard this ship."

"It's impossible," the heavy-set business man said. "There aren't any
saboteurs here."

"We'll begin with you," the Leiter said to him, stepping up beside the
man's seat. One of the soldiers passed the Leiter a square metal box.
"This will soon tell us if you're speaking the truth. Stand up. Get on
your feet."

The man rose slowly, flushing. "See here--"

"Are you involved in the destruction of the city? Answer!"

The man swallowed angrily. "I know nothing about any destruction of any
city. And furthermore--"

"He is telling the truth," the metal box said tonelessly.

"Next person." The Leiter moved down the aisle.

A thin, bald-headed man stood up nervously. "No, sir," he said. "I don't
know a thing about it."

"He is telling the truth," the box affirmed.

"Next person! Stand up!"

One person after another stood, answered, and sat down again in relief.
At last there were only a few people left who had not been questioned.
The Leiter paused, studying them intently.

"Only five left. The three must be among you. We have narrowed it down."
His hand moved to his belt. Something flashed, a rod of pale fire. He
raised the rod, pointing it steadily at the five people. "All right, the
first one of you. What do you know about this destruction? Are you
involved with the destruction of our city?"

"No, not at all," the man murmured.

"Yes, he's telling the truth," the box intoned.

"Next!"

"Nothing-- I know nothing. I had nothing to do with it."

"True," the box said.

The ship was silent. Three people remained, a middle-aged man and his
wife and their son, a boy of about twelve. They stood in the corner,
staring white-faced at the Leiter, at the rod in his dark fingers.

"It must