ern
knew he wouldn't die until he had given it. But he had to die. He would
die, and who was competent enough to know that it wasn't from the shock
of having come home to denser air and a heavier gravity?

There were ways--an oxygen tube, for example. Pure oxygen to be inhaled
in his sleep by lungs accustomed to a rarified atmosphere, or stimulants
in his food so it would look like a little too much exertion on a heart
already overtaxed. There were ways.

Stern's scalp tingled unpleasantly, and he saw the Martian looking at
him intently, coldly. In that moment Stern knew without question that
his mind was being read. Not his idea, perhaps, but his intent toward
Curtis. The Martian would have to be attended to first.

"Is it true, Dr. Anderson? Will he be all right?" Beryl was sitting on
the arm of the chair next to Schaughtowl, and she was looking at Clyde
almost as adoringly as the Martian. A few hours had undone all that
Stern had managed to do in four years.

If Stern had been uncertain, that alone would have decided him.

"I think so," said the doctor. "He seems to be uncomfortable, rather
than in pain. I'll send you a prescription for his heart, if he breathes
too heavily. Be sure, though, not to give him more than one pill in
three hours."

"Of course." Beryl was never that solicitous toward Stern.

"And you'll be in quarantine here until the government decides what, if
any, diseases he and the Martian may have brought back with them."

"None at all, Doctor." Curtis's voice was markedly more slurred, and he
stared intently with unblinking eyes at the blank wall.

"Well, that's something we can't tell yet. Well have to keep out the
press and television men, anyway, because of your health. If I'm not
detained, I'll be back tomorrow morning. Call me if there's any change."

On his way out, the physician was besieged by reporters and
photographers, baulked of better subjects. Shortly after the doctor's
departure, police sirens came screaming up. The men waiting around the
house were moved outside the gate and a guard was set at every entrance.

* * * * *

Later, a messenger came, was interrogated by the police sergeant who
took a small package from him and brought it to the house.

"Medicine," the sergeant said, handing it gingerly to Stern. "You can't
leave here without permission." And he walked hurriedly away.

This might be the answer. Stern had a good idea of what the