stening pistol down with a crack against the
table.

* * * * *

There was dead silence and Heidel found his smile again. "All right, now
I'll explain a bit further. Before Dr. Kingly, the head of our
laboratory, died a few days ago, he made a very peculiar discovery. As
you know, there has been no evidence to indicate that the Martian is any
different, physically, from the Earthman. Not until Dr. Kingly made his
discovery, that is."

Heidel looked from face to face. "This is how it happened," he went on.
"Dr. Kingly ..."

He paused and glanced about in false surprise. "I beg your pardon,
gentlemen. We might as well be enjoying our wine. Excellent port. Very
old, I believe. Shall we?" he asked, raising his glass.

Five other glasses shimmered in the candlelight.

"Let us, ah, toast success to the unveiling of the rotten Martian who
sits among us, shall we?" Heidel's smile glinted and he drank a quarter
of his glass.

The five glasses tipped and were returned to the table. Again there was
silence as the men waited.

"To get back," Heidel said, listening with excitement to his own voice.
"Dr. Kingly, in the process of an autopsy on a derelict Martian, made a
rather startling discovery ..."

"I beg your pardon," Forbes said. "Did you say autopsy?"

"Yes," said Heidel. "We've done this frequently. Not according to base
orders, you understand." He winked. "But a little infraction now and
then is necessary."

"I see," said Forbes. "I just didn't know about that."

"No, you didn't, did you?" said Heidel, looking at Forbes closely. "At
any rate, Dr. Kingly had developed in his work a preserving solution
which he used in such instances, thereby prolonging the time for
examination of the cadaver, without experiencing deterioration of the
tissues. This solution was merely injected into the blood stream,
and ..."

"Sorry again, sir," Forbes said. "But you said blood stream?"

"Yes," Heidel nodded. "This had to be done before the cadaver was a
cadaver, you see?"

"I think so, yes," said Forbes, leaning back again. "Murdered the
bastard for an autopsy, what?"

Heidel's fingers closed around the pistol. "I don't like that, Forbes."

"Terribly sorry, sir."

"To get on," Heidel said finally, his voice a cutting sound. "Dr. Kingly
had injected his solution and then ... Well, at any rate, when he
returned to his laboratory, it was night. His laboratory was black as
pitch--I'm trying t