"I didn't risk it a tenth as much as you're doing, by yelling at the top of your lungs where half of Mars can hear you. Anyhow, I saved your clothes and maybe your hide out in front a while ago. Doesn't that count for something?" "Sorry," Ronson said abruptly. "I lost my temper." "I'd like to make one point," Crick said. "We've got a mighty hot collection of thieves, crooks, and killers present in this joint." Jennie Ware and Jim Ronson stared at him. Crick gestured toward the Martian with the two guards. "That's Tal Bock. He belongs in the upper lentz country, where he is the leader of a gang of killers and thieves. The one over there soaking his hands in smoke is Kus Dorken. He's not any better than Tal Bock." "What are they doing here?" the girl asked. "I don't know," Crick answered. "Unless maybe they've been listening in on the grapevine too." For a moment, it looked as if Jennie Ware was about to cry. She seemed, suddenly, to become a small girl who had done something wrong and was very sorry for it and was trying to find some way to express her sorrow. Her hand came across the table again, touched Ronson's hand hesitantly. "I'm sorry, Jim, if I got you into trouble. But I knew your reputation. If you were coming here, something big was here. I--I wanted to be in on it. I guess all my life I've wanted to be in on something big. If I actually got you into trouble, Sam and I are here to help you get out of it. Isn't that right, Sam?" "Right, Jennie." A growl sounded in the tall adventurer's voice. "Thanks, both of you," Ronson said. He was deeply touched. In spite of the shell of bravado that she wore, and her sudden spurting anger, he liked this girl. She might have the reputation of an uninhibited vixen, but somewhere inside of her was a small girl looking out from awed and wondering eyes at the vastness of the world. "Watch it!" Crick's whisper was shrill and sharp. His eyes were focused on the ceiling. All the sounds of the place, the rattle of glasses, the sharp giggling of soliciting women, the deep voices of the Martian males, had gone into sudden and complete silence. Like Crick, they were looking upward. Ronson followed their gaze to the ceiling. Jennie Ware gave a quick cry. Glass tinkled and broke as she dropped her drink. Jim Ronson did not hear the sound. His entire attention was focused on what was happening on the ceiling. The dive itself had been cut into the side of the cliff. The solid rock of the ceiling had not been disguised or masked. At first glance, Ronson thought his eyes were deceiving him. The solid stone itself seemed to be in motion. A sort of melting, shifting flow seemed to be taking place as if the molecules and perhaps even the atoms themselves were dissolving. "That's atomic disintegration, or atomic shifting, under control!" Sam Crick gasped. "It's a mirage," Jennie Ware whispered. "It must be." "If it's a mirage, everybody in the place is seeing it," Ronson said.