She leaned closer toward me. "He could fool you. But not me--I've known too many magicians." She grinned. "I challenged him to trick me. You should have seen him evading!" "Do you know Ob Hahn?" I interrupted. She shook her head. "Never heard of him. But he told me plenty at breakfast. By Satan, what a flow of words that devil driver can muster! He and the Englishman don't mesh very well, do they?" She stared at me. I had not answered her grin; my mind was too busy with queer fancies. Halsey's words: "Things are not always what they seem--" Were these passengers masqueraders? Were they put here by George Prince? And then I thought of Miko the Martian, and the burn upon his arm. "Come back, Gregg! Don't go wandering off like that!" She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I'll be serious. I want to know what in hell is going on aboard this ship. I'm a woman and I'm curious. You tell me." "What do you mean?" I parried. "I mean a lot of things. What we've just been talking about. And what was the excitement you were in just before breakfast this morning?" "Excitement?" "Gregg, you may trust me." For the first time she was wholly serious. Her gaze made sure no one was within hearing. She put her hand on my arm. I could barely hear her whisper: "I know they might have a ray upon us. I'll be careful." "They?" "Anyone. Something's going on. You know it. You are in it. I saw you this morning, Gregg. Wild-eyed, chasing a phantom--" "You?" "And I heard the phantom! A man's footsteps. A magnetic, deflecting, invisible cloak. You couldn't fool an audience with that, it's too commonplace. If Rance Rankin tried--" I gripped her. "Don't ramble, Venza! You saw me?" "Yes. My stateroom door was open. I was sitting with a cigarette. I saw the purser in the smoking room. He was visible from--" "Wait! Venza, that prowler went through the smoking room!" "I know he did. I could hear him." "Did the purser hear him?" "Of course. The purser looked up, followed the sound with his gaze. I thought that was queer. He never made a move. And then you came along and he acted innocent. Why? What's going on, that's what I want to know?" I held my breath. "Venza, where did the prowler run to? Can you--" She whispered calmly, "Into A20. I saw the door open and close. I even thought I could see his blurred outline." She added, "Why should George Prince be sneaking around with you after him? And the purser acting innocent? And who is this George Prince, anyway?" The huge Martian, Miko, with his sister Moa came strolling along the deck. They nodded as they passed us. I whispered, "I can't explain anything now. But you're right, Venza: there is something going on. Listen! Whatever you learn--whatever you encounter which looks unusual--will you tell me? I ... well, I do trust you. Really I do, but the whole thing isn't mine to tell."