"I've never seen anything like it!" she breathed. "So crudely cut, and yet every line so perfect. Thad, look! The color of it! There seems to be just a suggestion of pink in the very heart of it--" Thaddeus Carlyle let the gem fall into his palm, so that the crystal contacted his silver ring. Ann gasped. The suggestion of pink was now a glowing atom of scarlet, as though the heart held one drop of blood. It throbbed and pulsed with life of its own. The heart grew warm against Carlyle's palm-- Suddenly the girl fell back against the chair. "I--I'm so tired, all of a sudden," she whispered. "Almost too tired--to breathe. Take me--to my cabin--Thad. I think I want--to lie down." Carlyle swore under his breath. "Fool!" he muttered. "I've been wearing you out with work, and excitement piled on that. You're going to bed, young lady. The ship's surgeon is going to have a look at you, too." "No, I'm all right," Ann murmured. "Just--tired." But Thaddeus Carlyle's strong arms were under her, now, and even as he carried her from the cabin she fell asleep. Looking down on her placid features, so like death, he felt a stab of remorse. Why did it have to be like this? he groaned. A life for a life--Carlyle knew within himself that he was willing to die right now. He'd seen enough of life and its disappointments. But always there was that strain of cowardice in his soul--fear of growing old, of dying. He'd courted death so long, hoping for a quick end on some battlefield, in some remote part of interstellar space. But never did it come. Friar Bacon had indeed cursed him with eternal life. * * * * * Six hours later, just as his shift was ending, Larry Wolfe spotted the first loose cluster of drifted wreckage. This meant they had entered the actual salvage field. He rang for Carlyle and the ship owner responded immediately, ducking to enter the bridge. Larry's clipped voice masked the jealousy he felt toward Carlyle. "Flotsam off the starboard bow sir," he said mechanically. Through powerful glasses, the other examined the wreckage. He lowered the glasses hurriedly. Apparently it was merely the torn, gutted shell of a barge, but-- "Rest of it may be near," he grunted. "We'll drop off Murphy, Stoller and Cass. Seen anything of Haggard lately? Anything to worry about, I mean?" "Yes, sir. He's drawn closer ... much too close considering we should be splitting apart now." Carlyle pivoted and shot a glance back at the darkly looming _Martian_. His brows drew into a solid bar across his angry eyes. "Half speed astern, Captain," he clipped. Larry glanced back at him. "You mean that?" "Exactly. Pull in beside the devil. I'm going to speak him."