twinkling spots of
colored tube-lights on all the tables. I saw, too, the blank
rectangles of darkness against the walls which marked the private
dining rooms, insulated against sight and sound. Here one might go for
frivolous indiscretion, or for conspiracy, perhaps, and be as secure
from interruption as we were, here in Halsey's office.

Venza asked eagerly, "Which is he?"

"Over there on the third terrace to the left. That table. There seem
to be six of them in the party."

We heard Francis' voice; he was in Halsey's lower Manhattan office,
with this same image before him. "We'll get a closer view."

The table in question was no more than a square inch on our image. We
could see an apparently gay party of men and women. One of the couples
was gigantic, a Martian man and woman, obviously. The others seemed to
be Earth or Venus people.

Francis' voice added: "I've got an audio magnifier on them. Foley's
been listening for an hour. Nice, clear English. Much good it does us;
this fellow is as cautious as a director of the lower air-lane. Here's
your near-look."

Our image shifted to another view. The lens-eye with which we were
connected now gave us a view directly over the Martian's table. We
were looking down diagonally upon the table, at a distance of no more
than ten feet.

There were three Earthwomen in the party. There was nothing peculiar
about them. They were rather handsome, dissolute in appearance, all of
them obviously befuddled by alcholite. There was a man who could have
been Anglo-Saxon. A wastrel, probably, with more money than wit; he
wore a black dinner suit edged with white.

Our attention focussed upon the other two. They were tall, as are all
Martians. The young woman, _Setta_ Meka, seemed perhaps twenty or
twenty-five years of age, by Earth reckoning, in stature perhaps very
nearly my own height, which is six feet two. It is difficult to tell a
Martian's age, but she was very handsome, even by Earth standards; and
in Ferrok-Shahn she would be considered a beauty. Her gray-black hair
was parted and tied at the back with a plaited metal rope. Her short
dark cloak, so luminous a fabric that it caught and reflected the
sheen of all the gaudy restaurant lights, was parted, its ends thrown
back over her shoulders. Beneath it she wore the characteristic
Martian leather jacket, and short, wide leather trousers ornamented
with spun metal fringes and tassels. Most Martian women have an
amazonian as