Mark didn't think so. "That bureau," he said, "is an octopus preying on the inventive genius of three planets! Their spies are everywhere, moving unseen, biding their time. You know the new anti-grav deflectors the Patrollers are using? A man named Anton Kramer worked that out. He had it near perfection when he suddenly disappeared. A month later the deflectors came on the market." Mark's voice was bitter. "There've been dozens of other cases. The BINWI usually gets what it wants, even if it means murder." Janus nodded. "There's a man aboard who'll agree with you on that! Professor Brownell. Perhaps you shall meet him--later." He turned his gaze to the four crew members. "All right, men, how about Mark Travers? Do we accept him as one of us? A vote is in order." "How do we know he's not a BINWI spy himself?" asked a small man with piercing black eyes. "He seems to know a lot about 'em!" "I'm convinced he's not, Ferris. We covered Brownell's trail too well for that. Let's have the vote." The "ayes" were unanimous and suddenly these men were friendly, smiling, as they stepped forward to shake Mark's hand. They were good handshakes, firm and calloused. Only Ferris' was reluctant. "There's one thing more," Janus said quietly. "We'll need your picture for our--shall we say--rogue's gallery? I insist on that. Perhaps I can take it now--with your camera." He reached to the black box on his desk, lifted it carelessly up. * * * * * Mark found himself staring full into the stub-nosed lenses. Sudden sweat broke on his brow. His gaze lifted and met Janus' gray eyes, straight and steady upon him. "Wait!" "What? Not camera shy, are you?" Janus' fingers seemed to fumble, but his gaze never left Mark's face. "The lens isn't set! It--it's special, you know." Mark stepped forward. His limbs seemed wooden. He took the box from Janus' hands, and pretending to adjust the lens, his thumb found the hidden stud and released it. The hum of the inner coils descended the scale again, became audible for a split second but only to Mark's ears; then they were dead. He let out a slow breath, handed the box back. "Okay now. Shoot." Janus waved it away. "Oh, well, it can wait. We'll get it later." He came around the desk, thrust out his hand. "Welcome aboard, Travers! You're one of us." Mark suddenly knew that Janus knew his secret ... but somehow he wasn't worried. He wondered if any of the others had noticed the by-play; moreover, he wondered what being "one of them" meant.... He was soon to know. At that moment a voice sliced through the radio.