"Yes. Nothing unusual among his things. We searched both his room and his sister's." I did not follow that up. Instead I told him about the burn on Miko's thick arm. He stared. "I wish we were at Ferrok-Shahn. Gregg, tonight when the passengers are asleep, come here to me. Snap will be here, and Dr. Frank. We can trust him." "He knows about--about the Grantline treasure?" "Yes. And so do Balch and Blackstone." Balch and Blackstone were our first and second officers. "We'll all meet here, Gregg--say about the zero hour. We must take some precautions." Then he dismissed me. I found Venza seated alone in a starlit corner of the secluded deck. A porthole, with the black heavens and the blazing stars was before her. There was an empty seat nearby. She greeted me with the Venus form of jocular, intimate greeting: "Hola-lo, Gregg! Sit here with me. I have been wondering when you would come after me." I sat down beside her. "Why are you going to Mars, Venza? I'm glad to see you." "Many thanks. But I am glad to see you, Gregg. So handsome a man. Do you know, from Venus to Earth, and I have no doubt on all of Mars, no man will please me more." "Glib tongue," I laughed. "Born to flatter the male--every girl of your world." And I added seriously, "You don't answer my question. What takes you to Mars?" "Contract. By the stars, what else? Of course, a chance to make a voyage with you--" "Don't be silly, Venza." I enjoyed her. I gazed at her small, slim figure reclining in the deck chair. Her long, gray robe parted by design, I have no doubt, to display her shapely, satin-sheathed legs. Her black hair was coiled in a heavy knot at the back of her neck; her carmine lips were parted with a mocking, alluring smile. The exotic perfume of her enveloped me. She glanced at me sidewise from beneath her sweeping black lashes. "Be serious," I added. "I am serious. Sober. Intoxicated by you, but sober." I said, "What sort of a contract?" "A theater in Ferrok-Shahn. Good money, Gregg. I'll be there a year." She sat up to face me. "There's a fellow here on the _Planetara_, Rance Rankin, he calls himself. At our table--a big, good-looking blond American. He says he is a magician. Ever hear of him?" "That's what he told me. No, I never heard of him." "Nor did I. And I thought I had heard of everyone of importance. He is listed for the same theater I am. Nice sort of fellow." She paused, then added, "If he's a professional entertainer, I'm a motor oiler." It startled me. "Why do you say that?" Instinctively my gaze swept the deck. An Earth woman and child and a small Venus man were in sight, but not within earshot. "Why do you look so furtive?" she retorted. "Gregg, there's something strange about this voyage. I'm no fool, nor you, so you must know it as well as I do." "Rance Rankin--" I prompted.