And he pushed back the quartzite helmet of his bulger, exposing the whitest smile, the handsomest face, the laughingest pair of eyes, all topped by the most unruly mop of cinnamon hair, Gary Lane had ever seen. A buccaneer the man might be, but he could equally well have been an artist's model for a gay and laughing cavalier of the Seventeenth Century. "Lark O'Day!" gasped Nora Powell. She knew the name, as did all Earthmen and women with a spark of romantic imagination in their systems. Lark O'Day was a privateer whose exploits were so remarkable as to be almost legendary. Though a tremendous price was offered for his apprehension by the harassed merchantmen of Earth's fleet, there were few but had a sneaking admiration for this gallant and quixotic young champion of derring-do, who, alone in this late day of ultra-civilization, carried on the traditions of an earlier Robin Hood or Dick Turpin. Though no rare cargo of precious gems or valuable ores was safe from the attentions of Lark O'Day, it was not only such things which tempted his forays. When the traitorous rebel government of the tiny planetoid Ceres had fled its orb with a ransom of priceless gems ravaged from the imperial coffers, he it was who had apprehended the traitors, delivered upon them a swift and merciless punishment, then sent to Ceres' beauteous Princess Alicia a gorgeous crown encrusted with the finest of the stolen gems ... retaining only (as his fee for services rendered) those jewels which found no place in the coronet. He it also was who, when Earth's government dared not openly accuse that brilliantly ruthless business tycoon, Jeremiah Draven, of establishing slave colonies on Earth's lunar outpost, whisked the trillionaire scoundrel from his private space yacht, held him incommunicado until a court, declaring him legally dead, broke up his financial empire ... then returned him to Earth horribly and ineradicably branded across the brow with a cicatrix which theologians identified as the biblical Mark of Cain. And it was Lark O'Day who, for a whim, had stopped on its maiden voyage the _Orestes_, greatest luxury liner ever built by man, for the sole purpose of stealing one kiss from the ripe, bewildered lips of the newly crowned "Miss Universe." This, then, was the nature of their attacker. And though Gary Lane knew the man to be a thief, daredevil, and desperado, he could not help but like him at first sight. Nor was even Captain Hugh Warren, who should have been furious, more than mildly amused at this latest prank of the void's piratical playboy. He chuckled and stripped off the gold braid emblems for which O'Day asked, tossed them toward the privateer. "Here you are," he laughed, "and welcome. I'm afraid I have no right to wear them any more, anyway. At least, that's what my commander would say." O'Day glanced at him curiously.