Mark racked his brain. "I don't remember that in the Interplanetary Code!" Driscoll turned, grinned at him. "Who's talking about Interplanetary Code? We make our own!" * * * * * Janus was in a forward cabin poring over charts on a glass-topped table. Three other men were lounging there. Janus was six-feet-four, with bulk to match. He had flaming red hair and an outlandish full beard that made a vivid splash against the drab gray of his insulated tunic. He scowled fiercely as the two men entered. Driscoll pushed Mark forward. "Found this stowaway in the supply room. Says his name is Mark Travers. I don't think he's I-S-P, though." Janus' deep-set gray eyes seemed to bore through Mark, then they flashed to the black box. "What's that?" "New-design projection camera. It--" "Put it here," Janus indicated the corner of his desk. Mark did so with some reluctance. This man was no fool! The other three men had come down off their bunks and stood there watching. One of them, Mark noticed, was a Martian. "Now. Why are you here?" "You seemed to be the sort of men I wanted to join up with." "I said why?" Mark wondered if this man would believe him. He didn't think so. Nevertheless, he'd already made up his story so he drew a long breath and told it: "I was with Tri-Planet News Service working out of Chicago. I happened to uncover a huge spacer contract graft. I got the names of the higher ups, photostatic copies of incriminating documents--everything. But the men involved happened to be _too_ high up; my story was squashed before it ever reached the wires. I would have been, too, permanently, but I escaped to Mars--" Janus was laughing at him behind that red beard. Mark was sure of it. He shrugged and didn't attempt to go on with the fabrication. It had been a good try, anyway. Janus said dryly: "Now tell me the real story. Or shall I tell you? You received one of the typical BINWI offers. You're running away to cool off, or maybe to keep your invention out of their hands. Is it this--ah--camera?" Janus glanced at the compact box lying there. "That's right," Mark admitted, marvelling at this man. "They made me several offers but I wouldn't come through. The last one was 'typical', all right--backed up by some of their hired thugs." "Why didn't you tell me this in the first place?" "I wasn't sure how you felt about the BINWI." Mark was still wary. "The same as you do, although I've never had any contact with them personally. My special peeve is the Tri-Planet Council, and the BINWI is a subsidiary. Bureau for the Investigation of New and Worthy Inventions. A laugh, ain't it?"