The fellow's voice was thick, but it was still loud over the din in the room. He had become increasingly voluble as the potent _tsith_ took effect. Obviously this was his first trip to Mars, and he didn't know the _Red Halo_ was named sardonically: it was the rendezvous for the worst cut-throats of three planets! * * * * * Marnay frowned. He hated men who became voluble under liquor, but there was something about this big, blonde guy he liked in spite of it! Something beyond the fact that he was an Earthman and an American. Now Marnay wished for the fellow's own sake that he'd shut up. But it was probably too late. Every outlaw in the place must have known by this time that the blonde Earthman was from the freighter, _Vera_--and that the _Vera_ was leaving tomorrow on a sneak trip, with ten million dollars in supplies and mining equipment for the Callisto colonies! One of the richest shipments ever to go out from Mars, and now, due to a few drinks and one bragging tongue it was a secret no longer. Marnay knew this information would soon be spreading through the criminal honeycombs of the Martian capital-city. He also knew if any of Prather's men were here--almost a certainty--the _Vera_ would never get beyond the asteroids, much less to Callisto. Through the haze of smoke he watched the motley little groups that filled the room. Tall, frail Venusians, pallid and dreamy-eyed and apparently docile, but who wouldn't hesitate to slit a throat on the slightest provocation. Leathery, heavy-lidded Martians, eternally sullen and quarrelsome. Earthmen, with that swaggering superiority and egotism which they'll probably retain to the end of time, making them the most hated men in the system. Marnay wondered how many in this room were Prather's men; probably a few of each race, but who could ever pick 'em out? Marnay had tried. That's what he was here for. Suddenly he became tense. This was what he had feared. He saw the big Earthman stagger heavily against a table. A mean looking Martian jumped up and shoved him violently away; the Martian's hand flew to his heat-gun, obviously awaiting an excuse to use it. But the Earthman only stared at him stupidly for a moment, swayed, and then bowed low, almost losing his balance. He mumbled a thick apology and moved away. The Martian glowered, called him something not very nice. Other Martians at the table laughed. Marnay sighed in relief. The bartender, grinning, touched him on the elbow. "If he's a friend of yours," he said, "better get him out of here." "He's no friend of mine," Marnay snapped. "But I think you're right, anyway." He moved across the room. Already he could see many of the spacemen listening to the words "_Vera_" and "cargo," a little too attentively. Marnay grasped the fellow's arm firmly, said "Come on." He steered him back to the bar, easily. Then past it toward the door. But the fellow smelled the fresh air and rebelled.