Her blue eyes widened in shock. "Then you've been doing more than just _trading_ with the hyperspacers. You've been _associating_ with them, and they're even worse than extraterrestrials because they're so much more--extraterrestrial!" She went on talking in this vein, but Mattern ignored her and turned his attention to the boy. "I suppose you told her not to eat or drink anything so she'd see the hyperspacer?" Raines nodded, his face essaying contempt but imperfectly concealing terror. "And I suppose you yourself did the same thing, not knowing the men weren't going to be drugged this trip?" Len sat down behind his writing table and looked thoughtfully at the young man. "You must have done the same thing before, on other trips, to know as much as you seem to. You must have heard and seen a great deal, eh?" "Plenty," Raines said, through brave, stiff lips. "Plenty." _Obviously the boy hates me_, Mattern thought. _But why? Is Lyddy enough reason?_ * * * * * "Why did you bring her into this?" he asked, almost mildly. Lyddy didn't give Alard a chance to answer. "Because he wanted me to see you as you really are!" she shrieked. The boy shuffled his feet. "I had to tell somebody." "Why my wife, though? She owes you nothing; she owes me everything. The first woman of the streets you picked up would have made a safer confidante." "Maybe I trusted her." "Maybe you had no right to trust her!" Mattern cried, almost with sincerity. "It would have been wrong of her not to tell me." "Maybe it was because I--I love her," Alard said, looking down at the thick rugs that covered the cabin floor. "If you fall in love with somebody, you tell them things." Mattern couldn't help smiling. "I never do," he said. "Maybe you've never been in love. Maybe you don't have any human feelings at all." There was an uncomfortable feeling in Mattern's shoulders, as if his tailor had made a mistake for once. Had he, during sixteen years of alien trade, changed into something not quite human? Was there then a solid basis for the anti-extraterrestrial prejudice? He picked up a slender, sharp thike and ran his thumb absent-mindedly along the blade. Alard stiffened in his effort not to flush. Mattern smiled and laid the thike down on the table. It was only a paperknife and had never been used for anything more. If he ever had need for such a thing to be done, the time was long past when he would have needed to do it himself. He looked at the crewman. "One would almost think you told my wife because you wanted her to tell me," he suggested. "That's ridiculous!" Alard flashed. "I may be a fool, but not that much of a fool!" "Why are you on my ship with forged papers then?" Mattern demanded. "I wanted--I wanted to bring you to justice." "By committing a crime yourself? Surely a roundabout way. And why have you taken it upon yourself to help rid humanity of me?"