of my money," he said. "Well, it
can't. I know my rights. That money belongs to me."

"I guess you're doing pretty well without McCann," I said.

His angry expression was replaced by one of bewilderment. "What do you
mean?"

"They told me back at Atronics City," I explained, "that McCann was the
money expert and you were the metals expert, and that's why McCann
handled all your buying on credit and stuff like that. Looks as though
you've got a pretty keen eye for money yourself."

"I know what's mine," he mumbled, and turned away. He went back to
scrubbing the stove coils again.

I stared at his back. Something had happened just then, and I wasn't
sure what. He'd just been starting to warm up to a tirade against the
dirty insurance company, and all of a sudden he'd folded up and shut up
like a clam.

And then I saw it. Or at least I saw part of it. I saw how that
cash-return form fit in, and how it made perfect sense.

Now, all I needed was proof of murder. Preferably a body. I had the rest
of it. Then I could pack the old geezer back to Atronics City and get
proof for the part I'd already figured out.

I'd like that. I'd like getting back to Atronics City, and having this
all straightened out, and then taking the very next liner straight back
to Earth. More immediately, I'd like getting out of this heat and back
into the cool sixty-eight degrees of--

And then it hit me. The whole thing hit me, and I just sat there and
stared. They did not carry extras, Karpin and McCann, they did not carry
one item of equipment more than they needed.

I sat there and looked at the place where the dead body was hidden, and
I said, "Well, I'll be a son of a gun!"

He turned and looked at me, and then he followed the direction of my
gaze, and he saw what I was staring at, and he made a jump across the
room at the revolver lying on the cot.

* * *

That's what saved me. He moved too fast, jerked his muscles too hard,
and went sailing up and over the cot and ricocheted off the dome wall.
And that gave me plenty of time to get up from the chair, moving more
cautiously than he had, and get my hands on the revolver before he could
get himself squared away again.

I straightened with the gun in my hand and looked into a face white with
frustration and rage. "Okay, Mister McCann," I said. "It's all over."

He knew I had him, but he tried not to show it. "What are you talking
about? McCann's dead."

"Sure