"Gregg don't you know me?"

Clinging to me. A soft touch upon my arm. Fingers, clinging. A surge
of warm, tingling current was flowing between us.

My sweep of instant thoughts. A speck of human Earth dust falling
free. That was George Prince who had been killed. George Prince's
body, disguised by the scheming Carter and Dr. Frank, buried in the
guise of his sister. And this black-robed figure who was trying to
help me....

"Anita! Anita darling--"

"Gregg, dear one!"

"Anita!" My arms went around her, my lips pressed hers, and felt her
tremulous eager answer.

The form of Coniston showed at our window. She cast me off. She said,
with her throaty swagger of amused, masculinity:

"I have him, Sir Arthur. He will obey us."

I sensed her warning glance. She shoved me toward the window. She
said ironically, "Have no fear, Haljan. You will not be tortured, you
and Dean, if you obey our commands."

Coniston gripped me. "You fool! You caused us a lot of trouble. Move
along there!"

He jerked me roughly through the window. Marched me the length of the
deck, out to the stern space, opened the door of my cubby, flung me in
and sealed the door upon me.

"Miko will come presently."

I stood in the darkness of my tiny room, listening to his retreating
footsteps. But my mind was not upon him.

All the universe, in that instant, had changed for me. Anita was
alive!

XIV

The giant Miko stood confronting me. He slid my cubby door closed
behind him. He stood with his head towering close against my ceiling.
His cloak was discarded. In his leather clothes, and with his clanking
sword ornament, his aspect carried the swagger of a brigand of old. He
was bare-headed; the light from one of my tubes fell upon his
grinning, leering gray face.

"So, Gregg Haljan? You have come to your senses at last. You do not
wish me to write my name on your chest? I would not have done that to
Dean; he forced me. Sit back."

I had been on my bunk. I sank back at the gesture of his huge hairy
arm. His forearm was bare now; the sear of a burn on it was plain to
be seen. He remarked my gaze.

"True. You did that, Haljan, in Greater New York. But I bear you no
malice. I want to talk to you now."

He cast about for a seat, and took the little stool which stood by my
desk. His hand held a small cylinder of the Martian paralyzing ray. He
rested it beside him on the desk.

"Now we can talk."

I remained silent. Alert. Yet my