In an instant they blinked out. Matt found that he could see better. He could make out the black circle charred bare by the jets when they had landed, the ringing wall of pines. "There's something moving in the trees!" he informed the others. He could feel a shudder pass over them. "Where's that man?" Lynn answered, "Back in the messroom, gibbering. Barb's trying to get sense out of him, but he seems terrified of her." Matt caught a flash of white from the trees below and stiffened. Then, dainty as a wolf, a woman stepped into the bare moonlit circle surrounding the _Argus_. She threw back her head to stare up at the towering spaceship. She was dressed in boots and breeches, but they couldn't conceal her sex. "Hey, you up there!" she called in clear ringing tones. "Who are you?" "The National Cosmographic Society's Expedition to Mars," Matt replied cautiously. There was a vague stirring from the black wood, but no other figures appeared. "You mean you've just returned from Mars?" the woman asked. "Yes." "Lower a ladder. I'm coming aboard." Matt, who had caught the dull gleam of moonlight on metal, said, "Leave your rifle at the edge of the wood." The woman hesitated; then she leaned something against a tree. Matt gave the signal; the ladder slowly descended and came to rest. He saw the woman take hold of the rungs and begin to climb. "Give me a hand," she said. He extended his hand and she grasped it. He was surprised at the strength of her grip as she hoisted herself to the deck and straightened. She gave him a penetrating look from narrowed eyes and then flung her glance over the faces blocking the passage. She was as tall as he was, Matt realized, with hair cropped short about her face. Matt said, "The lights!" and swung the port shut at the same instant, shooting the bolts. The woman crouched like an animal. Then the lights came on. Her hair, Matt saw, was red as flame, her eyes green and oblong. She licked her lips. "Who are you?" Matt asked bluntly. "Why were you prowling around the ship?" The woman straightened again slowly. "Did you see anything of a man coming this way?" "Yes. He's in there." Matt nodded toward the messroom. "What did you want with him?" The woman looked vaguely surprised. "He's mine!" she said. "He ran away!" * * * * * Gradually Matt had become aware of a subtle difference that set the woman apart from the others. It was not so much her appearance as the way she carried herself--the set of her head, the level appraising coolness of her green eyes. Arrogance! He felt a bristling of hostility. "You've been through the plague?" The woman nodded, her flame-colored hair glinting golden in the light. The director thrust himself to the fore. "Won't you come into the messroom? There are hundreds of questions we'd like to ask, Miss ... Miss...." "My name's Margot," she said. "Margot Drake. Where is this messroom?" "This way," began the director.