"See here, why would not a hundred pounds of gold-leaf tempt you? The
code-words which were taken from Johnson--I mean to say, why not tell us
where they are?"

So that was one of the brigands new difficulties! Snap had taken the
code-word sheet, that time we sealed the purser in the cage.

I said, "You'll never find them. And when a police ship sights us, what
will you do then?"

The chances of a police ship were slim indeed, but the brigands
evidently did not know that. I wondered again what had become of Snap.
Was he captured--or still holding them off?

I was watching my windows; for at any moment, under cover of this talk,
I might be assailed.

* * * * *

Gravity came suddenly to the room. Miko's voice said. "We mean well by
you, Haljan. There is your normality. Join us. We need you to chart our
course."

"And a hundred pounds of gold-leaf," urged Coniston. "Or more. Why, this
treasure--"

I could hear an oath from Miko. And then his ironic voice: "We will not
bother you, Haljan. There is no hurry. You will be hungry in good time.
And sleepy. Then we will come and get you. And a little acid will make
you think differently about helping us...."

His vibrations died away. The pull of gravity in the room was normal. I
was alone in the dim silence, with the bodies of Carter and Johnson
lying huddled on the grid. I bent to examine them. Both were dead.

My isolation was no ruse this time. The outlaws made no further attack.
Half an hour passed. The deck outside, what I could see of it, was
vacant. Balch lay dead close outside the chart-room door. The bodies of
Blackstone and the Course-master had been removed from the turret
window. A forward lookout--one of Miko's men--was on duty in the nearby
tower. Hahn was at the turret controls. The ship was under orderly
handling, heading back upon a new course. For the Earth? Or the Moon? It
did not seem so.

I found, in the chart-room, a Benson curve-light projector which poor
Captain Carter had very nearly assembled. I worked on it, trained it
through my rear window, along the empty deck; bent it into the lounge
archway. Upon my grid the image of the lounge interior presently
focused. The passengers in the lounge were huddled in a group.
Disheveled, frightened, with Moa standing watching them. Stewards were
serving them with a meal.

* * * * *

Upon a bench, bodies were lying. Some were dead. I s