"Oh, it worked," said Westervelt. "It worked beautifully. The only trouble was that when they got these three guys aboard and were picking up stellar speed, they found that the Mizarians had pulled a little sleight of hand. They'd stuck three of their own into the Terran spacesuits--pretty cramped, but able to move--and sent them to spy out the ship. Well, the captain took one look and realized it was all over. He couldn't supply the Mizarians with enough chlorine to keep them alive until they could be sent back. He just kept going." "But the men they left behind!" exclaimed Beryl. "What happened to them?" Westervelt shrugged. "They never exactly found out." Beryl, horrified, turned to Simonetta, who stared reflectively at the wall. "For all we know," said the dark girl, "they were dead already." "It was about even," said Westervelt. "The Mizarians never heard exactly what happened to theirs either." There was a period of silence while they considered that angle. Simonetta finally said, "Why don't you tell her about the time they gave that spacer the hormone treatment for a disguise?" "Oh ... you tell it," said Westervelt, trapped. "You know it better than I do." "That one," began Simonetta, "happened on a world where there's a colony from Terra that isn't much talked about. It's a sort of Amazon culture, and they don't allow men. They were set to execute this fellow who smuggled himself in for a lark, when the Department started shipping him drugs that changed his appearance." Westervelt admired Beryl's wide-eyed intentness. "Finally," Simonetta continued, "his appearance changed so much that he could dress up and pass for a woman anywhere. He just walked out when the next scheduled spaceship landed, and was halfway back to Terra before they finished searching the woods for him. It made trouble, though." "What happened?" breathed Beryl. "They never quite succeeded in changing him back. His wife wound up divorcing him for infidelity when he gave birth to twins." Beryl straightened up abruptly. "Oh...! You--come on, now!" Westervelt reminded himself that the blush must have resulted less from the joke than from having been taken in. They were still laughing when a buzzer sounded at Beryl's desk phone. She flipped the switch, listened for a moment, then rose with a toss of her blonde head at Westervelt. "Mr. Parrish wants me to help him research in the dead files," she said. "I bet _he_ won't try that kind of gag on me!" "No," muttered Westervelt as she strode out, "he has some all his own." He looked up to find Simonetta watching him with a grin. She shook her head ruefully as Westervelt grew a flush to match Beryl's. "Willie, Willie!" she said sadly. "You aren't letting that bottle blonde bother you? I didn't think you were that kind of boy!" Westervelt grinned back, at some cost. "Is there another kind?" he asked. "After, all, Si, she's only been around a few weeks. It's the novelty. I'll get used to her."