The Martian shook his head as though in disbelief but went on. "Those two matters you have explained, surprisingly, but acceptably. But to this last charge there can be no possible honorable background in Terran custom. I refer to the fact that in the final conflict _you fell as though dead and remained on the ground until the other contestants had all but eliminated each other_. When only the badly wounded _Slaber_ and the half dead Venusian gladiator remained, you got up again and, reentering the fight, finished off these opponents." The judge threw up his four hand in horror. "Certainly, you can't claim justification for that! Not on any grounds, not by and...." I stood up as straight and defiantly as my heavy bandages would allow. "Listen," I growled. "It's one of the oldest traditions of Terra. It's called PLAYING POSSUM." For a full minute silence fell on the whole group. Then I could hear one diplomat whisper questioningly to another. "_Playing possum?_ What does that mean?" And then with one of the most outstanding bits of pure statesmanship the system has even seen, Suzi took up the cue and spoke in collaboration. "He's quite right. Playing possum is in full accord with Terran custom. Why," she added innocently, "earth always acts in that manner. She pretends she's weak, helpless, someone to be ignored; and, then, suddenly, and without warning, she shows her full strength." The various judges and diplomats shot glances at each other from the sides of their eyes, especially those from Venus, Saturn, and Pluto. The Terran judge was no _makron_. When somebody yelled _glorm_ he knew enough to grab the _gaboot_ and run with it. He looked at Suzi and I severely. "Say no more, either of you. You are not here to reveal Terran secrets." The other diplomats eyed each other again, nervously. The Martian judge, more genial now, said, "Undoubtedly, a mistake has been made due to our lack of knowledge of Terran customs and practices. The emerald shall be awarded the Terran gladiator, Jak Demsi, as soon as it is found. It is undoubtedly still in the arena in the possession of some slain contestant." I took it from my belt. "As a matter of fact, I have it here. I picked it up while playing possum under that heap of corpses. It's an old custom handed down from a Terran city named Brooklyn. 'When you see something that ain't nailed down, latch onto it.'" Alger Wilde left the room hurriedly, followed hand in hand by Suzi and I. It was time for the diplomats to begin their wrangling, the wrangling that would settle the fate of worlds. As we passed through the door, I could see the anticipation on the faces of the diplomats from Terra. From what I heard later, they must have given the other diplomats _kert_. If you'll pardon my language.