The thought came so suddenly, so breathtakingly, that it literally lifted him out of his chair. There was but one possible answer! The reverse of his former theory. Wilmot was neither the bearer of the precious secret nor a spy. He was the "innocent bystander"; the traditional victim who, from time immemorial, has always been the one to get bopped. Somehow the nervous, jittery little man had learned _who_ the spy was. He had attempted to communicate his knowledge to Captain Algase; the petulance of his own nature had rendered this impossible. And the spy, knowing that Wilmot had learned his secret, had-- Again he pressed the button. This time Sparks said, "Lieutenant Mallory? Have you seen Mr. Lemming? The captain wants to question him, but he can't be found anywhere--" "Never mind that!" rapped Mallory. "Sparks, I want to know this. How was Wilmot killed?" "Rayed, sir. Needled." "I thought as much. And who was the first to find him?" "Dr. Bonetti, sir. He's being held under suspicion. He confesses to having supplied Wilmot with drugs, sir. _Teklin-root_, sir. (That would be, thought Mallory swiftly, the package surreptitiously exchanged in the observation room.) But he claims he didn't kill Wilmot--" "Quick, man! Was Captain Smith anywhere around the radio turret when this happened?" "Why--why, he _had_ been, sir. But he left before Mr. Wilmot did--" Captain Algase's face appeared in the visiplate beside that of Sparks. "Daniel, my boy, keep your eye peeled for Lemming. He's disappeared. Susan Wilmot has told us he isn't a jewel merchant at all; he's a jewel thief! Fleeing Earth to gain settler's amnesty on Io. Wilmot knew his secret, tried to blackmail him. Lemming threatened--" "You're after the wrong man!" screamed Dan Mallory. "Captain, I see it all, now! The whole story. These other things have confused us. Sparks, swiftly--get me that M-13 plate again!" * * * * * The scene spun, changed dizzily. Once again Mallory was gazing down the corridor where Aiken had stood guard. But Aiken no longer stood before Lady Alice Charwell's door. He lay there, limp, still forever. A smoking hole charred his broad chest, crimson stirred sluggishly from the needle-ray's telltale trail. The door of the stateroom was open. A hoarse bellow told Dan that the captain was seeing the same scene. "_She_ did it! She killed him and escaped!" "No!" roared Mallory. "_Smith_ did it! The man we should have suspected all the time; the man who _admitted_ his guilt, but I was too blind to see it. Kreuther's spy. The renegade space officer--Captain, did you feel that?" His space-trained senses had felt the swift, tiny moment of jarring repercussion that meant only one thing--that from one of the escape ports a life-skiff, an auxiliary safety rocket, had slipped from its base on the _Libra_, taken off into space! "He's escaping! He's kidnaped her and taken off in a life-skiff. Bud! Take over! I'm lifting gravs!"