ands stretched forward in the coffin-like experimental
ship, Mayhem worked the controls, exactly matching speed with _Mozart's
Lady_.

He tried to put himself in the position of the escaped convict. What
would he do? His best bet would be to swing in close around Pluto, as
close as he dared. Then, on the dark side of the planet, to change his
orbit abruptly and come loose of its gravitational field in a new
direction. It was a dangerous maneuver, but since the escaped convict
now knew for sure that the tiny ship could match the speed of _Mozart's
Lady_, it was his only hope. The danger was grave: even a first-rate
pilot would try it only as a last resort, for the gravitational pull of
Pluto might upset _Mozart's Lady_'s orbit. If that happened, the best
the convict could hope for was an emergency landing. More likely, a
death-crash would result.

Seconds later, Mayhem's thinking was confirmed. _Mozart's Lady_ executed
a sharp turn in space and disappeared behind the white bulk of Pluto.

Mayhem swore and followed.

"He's trying to kill us all!"

"He doesn't know how to pilot a ship! We're helpless, helpless!"

"Do something, Mrs. Moriarity!"

"Now girls, whatever happens, you must keep calm. We can only assume
that Jane was right about what she saw, but since none of us can pilot a
spaceship, we'll have to bide our time...."

"Bide our time!"

"We're all as good as dead!"

One of the girls began screaming.

Mrs. Moriarity slapped her. "I'm sorry, dear. I had to hit you. Your
behavior bordered on the hysterical. And if we become hysterical we are
lost, lost, do you understand?"

"Yes'm."

"Good. Then we wait and see what happens."

* * * * *

What was happening was an attempt at what test-pilots term
planet-swinging. Moving in the direction of Pluto's orbit, _Mozart's
Lady_ swung in very close behind the planet. Then, as the rotation of
Pluto on its axis hurled it forth again, as a sling-shot hurls a pellet,
_Mozart's Lady_'s rockets would alter the expected direction of flight.
Unless a pursuing ship followed exactly the same maneuver, it would be
flung off into space at top-speed in the wrong direction. It might be
hours before the first ship's trail could be picked up again--if ever.

House Bartock, aware of all this--and one other factor--sat sweating it
out at the controls.

The one other factor was closeness to Pluto. For if you got too close,
and the difference