"Was it the commander, Gutierrez?" "No. I do not know what it was. Nothing, probably." "The Wasp in sight?" "Not yet, _Nina_. You had best go back: De Boer, he might be jealous of us, no? He is busy with his instruments, but should he realize you are here, talking with me--" "Senseless, Gutierrez!" "Is it so, _Nina_? I have no attraction? Go back to him. Gold I want, not trouble over you!" Faint laughter. "When we sight the Wasp, I'll call and tell you, Gutierrez. Too bad you won't let me stay with you. I like you." "Yes. But go now!" Faint laughter. Footsteps. Then silence. Our vital moment had come and passed. And Jetta had done her part; the role of action upon this dim lurid stage was now mine to play. My hands were free. CHAPTER XVIII _The Combat in the Green Darkness_ Another interval. A dead, dark silence. I did not dare move. Gutierrez was here, within a few feet of me, probably. I wondered if he could see the outlines of the black sack. Doubtless they were very vague. But if I exposed my flesh, my face, my hands, that would at once attract his attention. I worked the loosened cords from my wrists; moved my stiffened hands until, with returning blood, the strength came to them. I could not reach my bound ankles without doubling up my knees. I did not dare chance such a movement of the sack. But, after a moment, I got my hands in front of me. Then I took the gag from my mouth and, with a cautious hand, pried at the top of the sack where it was bunched over my head. Its fastening was loose. Another interval. A dim muffled voice; "The Wasp is in sight, Gutierrez!" A movement--a sound like footsteps. Probably Gutierrez moving to the corridor window to glance at Hanley's distant hovering flyer. I hoped it might be that: I had to take the chance. * * * * * I slid the bag from my face. I feared an abrupt alarm, or Gutierrez leaping upon me. But there was silence, and I saw his vague dark outlines at the window oval, five feet from me. I got my ankles loose and slid the bag off. I was unsteady on my feet, but desperation aided me. Gutierrez half turned as I gripped him from behind. My hand on his mouth stifled his outcry. His black knife blade waved blindly. Then my clenched knuckle caught his temple, and dug with the twisting Santus blow. I was expert at it, and I found the vulnerable spot. He crumpled in my grasp, and I slid his falling body across the narrow corridor into the nearest cubby oval. Almost soundless; and in the control room Jetta and De Boer were murmuring and gazing at Hanley's ship, which hung ahead and above us at the zero-height. I had planned all my movements. No motion was lost. Gutierrez was about my height and build. I stripped his black suit from him, donned it, then tied his ankles and wrists, and gagged him against the time when he would recover consciousness. Then I stuffed his body in the sack and tied its top.