But that wasn't what we were looking at, nor the dozens of goldfish that swam merrily about the coral and bumped their snouts against the plexiglass sides of the tank. It was the ten tiny mermaids that crowded around the coral base, wiggling gracefully toward us one by one to stare at us staring at them. They were much like the fabled marine creatures I'd read about on Earth, only smaller--like little dolls--and far more beautiful than those imaginative ancients ever dreamed of. From the waist up they were pocket-editions of perfectly-formed girls. Their eyes were amber, with the sparkle of a coquette, their hair luxuriantly long and golden. Silver nails tipped each tiny finger and the silver was repeated in the gleaming scales which covered the tapering lower half of the graceful bodies. O'Graeme peered in delighted fascination at the strange sight. "Fantastic!" he breathed. "Stupendous!" I corrected. "Aren't they honeys?" Just then the dinner party filed in from the adjoining room. I caught Mr. Ames' eye, and he gave me the nod. So I introduced Slane O'Graeme. Besides Mr. Ames and his wife and Margie, there were three guests, Roger Wescott, Interplanetary Transport magnate, and his wife, and Senator B. Peerpont Weems. Fleming Ames turned the little vial over in his hands and examined it frowningly. "You say, Bill, that the effect is a mild and pleasant exhilaration?" I smiled. "Well, Mr. Ames, it was more than mild, but then I got an overdose, I suppose. There was no physical incoordination, though. Just mental stimulus. I had a momentary inclination to--" I paused--it didn't seem wise to tell my employer just what that momentary inclination had been. Mr. Ames carefully uncorked the vial. "Well," he said, "I guess, if you've tried it and found it safe we'll give it a group test. Try it as an after-dinner cordial. Anyone mind?" He glanced about the huge air-cushioned divans and lounging chairs where the guests were comfortably settled. Both Mr. Wescott and Senator Weems nodded approvingly. Mrs. Ames stiffened in her overstuffed chair and said a bit tensely, "Fleming, I simply will not tolerate--" But Margie put a hand on her mother's arm and said, "Now, Mother, don't be a spoilsport. I'm sure Bill wouldn't let Dad try it if it wasn't all right." I smiled at Margie gratefully. Then Mr. Ames turned toward the mermaid tank behind him, and Slane O'Graeme said quickly, "Be careful, Mr. Ames. Don't drop--" And then it happened. * * * * * The opened vial slipped from the liquor magnate's hand as he lifted it over the rim on the tank. It hit the top of the water with a soft plop, sank and struck the coral with a faint clink. Diffusion in the water must have been almost instantaneous; it was light blue throughout even before the vial hit bottom.