erself upon me. Her hair smothered my face as her lips almost touched
my ear.

"Something about treasure on the Moon. Shac couldn't understand what.
And they mentioned you. Then the purser joined them." Her whispered
words tumbled over one another. "A hundred pounds of gold leaf--that's
the purser's price. He's with them--whatever it is. He promised to do
something or other for them."

She stopped. "Well?" I prompted.

"That's all. Shac's current was interrupted."

"Tell him to try it again, Venza! I'll talk with him. No! I'd better
let him alone. Can you get him to keep his mouth shut?"

"I think he might do anything I told him. He's a man!"

"Find out what you can."

She drew away from me abruptly. "There's Anita and George Prince."

They came to the corner of the deck, but turned back. Venza caught my
look. And understood it.

"You do love Anita Prince, Gregg?" Venza was smiling. "I wish you....
I wish some man handsome as you would gaze after me like that." She
turned solemn. "You may be interested to know, she loves you. I could
see it. I knew it when I mentioned you to her this morning."

"Me? Why we've hardly spoken!"

"Is it necessary? I never heard that it was."

I could not see Venza's face; she stood up suddenly. And when I rose
beside her, she whispered, "We should not be seen talking so long.
I'll find out what I can."

I stared after her slight robed figure as she turned into the lounge
archway and vanished.

VI

Captain Carter was grim. "So they've bought him off, have they? Go
bring him in here, Gregg. We'll have it out with him now."

Snap, Dr. Frank, Balch, our first officer, and I were in the Captain's
chart room. It was four P.M. Earth time. We were sixteen hours upon
our voyage.

I found Johnson in his office in the lounge. "Captain wants to see
you. Close up."

He closed his window upon an American woman passenger who was
demanding the details of Martian currency, and followed me forward.
"What is it, Gregg?"

"I don't know."

Captain Carter banged the slide upon us. The chart room was insulated.
The hum of the current was obvious. Johnson noticed it. He stared at
the hostile faces of the surgeon and Balch. And he tried to bluster.

"What's this? Something wrong?"

Carter wasted no words. "We have information, Johnson, that there's
some undercover plot aboard. I want to know what it is. Suppose you
tell us."

The purser looked blank. "What do you mean? We've