"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 started at the hostile faces of the surgeon and Balch. And he tried to bluster. "What is this? Something wrong?" Carter wasted no words. "We have information, Johnson--there's some under cover plot here aboard. I want to know what it is. Suppose you tell us frankly." * * * * * The purser looked blank. "What do you mean? We've gamblers aboard, if that's--" "To hell with that," growled Balch. "You had a secret interview with that Martian, Set Miko, and with George Prince!" Johnson scowled from under his heavy brows, and then raised them in surprise. "Did I? You mean changing their money? I don't like your tone, Balch. I'm not your under-officer!" "But you're under me," roared the captain. "By God, I'm master here!" "Well, I'm not disputing that," said the purser mildly. "This fellow Balch--" "We're in no mood for argument," Dr. Frank cut in. "Clouding the issue." "I won't let it be clouded," the captain exclaimed. I had never seen Carter so choleric. He was evidently under a tremendous strain. He added, "Johnson, you've been acting suspiciously. I don't give a damn whether I've proof of it or not--I say it. Did you, or did you not meet George Prince and that Martian last night?" "No, I did not. And I don't mind telling you, Captain Carter, that your tone also is offensive!" "Is it?" Carter suddenly seized him. They were both big men. Johnson's heavy face went purplish red. "Take your hands!--" They were struggling. Carter's hands were fumbling at the purser's pockets. I leaped, flung an arm around Johnson's neck, pinning him. "Easy there! We've got you, Johnson!" * * * * * Snap tried to help me. "Go on, bang him on the head, Gregg. Now's your chance!" We searched him. A heat-ray cylinder--that was legitimate. But we found a small battery and eavesdropping microphone similar to the one Venza had mentioned that Shac the gambler was carrying. "What are you doing with that?" the captain demanded. "None of your business! Is it criminal? Carter, I'll have the Line officials dismiss you for this! Take your hands off me, all of you!" "Look at this!" exclaimed Dr. Frank. From Johnson's breast pocket the surgeon drew a folded document. It was the scale drawing of the Planetara's interior corridors, the lower control rooms and mechanisms. It was always kept in Johnson's safe. And with it, another document: the ship's clearance papers--the secret code pass-words for this voyage, to be used if we should be challenged by any interplanetary police ship. Snap gasped. "My God, that was in my helio-room strong box! I'm the only one on this vessel except the captain who's entitled to know those pass-words!" Out of the silence, Balch demanded, "Well, what about it, Johnson?"