"They must have been pushing off at well over two G," he said, "for their momentum to have carried them out as far as it did. They made a big loop." Dr. Grimwood smiled wryly. "I imagine they were impatient. How would you feel with a negotiable fortune as a cargo?" "You might say," returned Archer, "how _do_ I feel? That leftover you're holding must be 30 or 40 carats. I'll be glad enough to turn it over to the company and let them find out about salvage rights, if any. Frankly, I'm just a little afraid of the stuff. Its value seems to be of slightly lethal proportions." "True," sighed the doctor, "but there's a great temptation to stop off at that find and sneak a hunk of it for some friends of mine. They'd get a bigger kick out of pulverizing it with a mallet than they would buying castles on Arcturus IV." Under the onus of triple weight, the hour that followed seemed much longer. At last the ship cleared the dangerous fringe of atmosphere by a good thousand miles, and Archer aimed her nose at the retreating rim of the planet, reducing deceleration to a very tolerable 1.5 G. "We'll swing pretty wide," he said to the others. "It'll be nine or ten hours before we get back in at a safe speed. If you fellows don't mind, I'm going to shuck this suit and catch a nap right here in this chair. I'm all in. I'd advise you, Stokely, to do the same. We may need to be on our toes later--this job won't practically land itself like the one we're used to!" * * * * * A few hours later, Will Archer was pacing a broad marble courtyard inlaid with Farian jade, in a kingly castle on Arcturus IV, when a rough hand on his shoulder shook him awake. It was Stokely, with his gun in his hand and an ugly smile on his rather handsome, freckled face. He motioned derisively toward Dr. Grimwood, who was bound securely to his chair. "I can't figure the doctor out," said Stokely. "I thought he made a wonderful suggestion about stopping off and picking up some more jade, but now that I've invited him, he doesn't want to go." Archer had discarded his own gun with his pressure-suit and was chagrined to see it now in its holster at Stokely's waist. He groaned inwardly, cursing his sleeping intuition for not having warned him. In looking back, he realized now that there had been more to Stokely's reactions than mere awe at the sight of a fabulous gem. And there was something else--Stokely, though a first-rate engineer, had been washed out as a Space Guard cadet on psychological grounds. He was quite sane, but too individualistic--his social and cooperative indices had been low. Captain Rogan had known of his record, of course--but he had not known what would be found on this ship, and what effect it would have on Stokely. But what about Evans? Archer turned in his chair and saw the slightly built man standing a little nervously in back of him, holding what must be the dead prospector's gun.