The planter flinched, but didn't answer. Cosmo knocked him sprawling against the wall. He heard Mia gasp. He said evenly: "What about the Ormoo?" Bemmelman tasted the blood in his mouth, said: "You'll never leave here alive, Cosmo. You won't be able to carry tales.... Now wait a moment! There's a plant the birds eat that contains a drug...." He paused. Cosmo's eyes narrowed. He had the impression that the planter was listening, waiting for something to happen. He said, "Go ahead." "The drug accelerates maturity. It acts directly through the glands." "How did you hit on the discovery?" A feeling of revulsion made Cosmo's hands tremble, but his features were inscrutable. Bemmelman chuckled amiably. "This information won't do you a bit of good," he said. "No sir, not a bit." "Go ahead." Bemmelman shrugged. "Well sir, I've been curious about how much longer it takes for an Ormoo in captivity to mature than the wild bird. The wild Ormoo, you know, reaches its full growth in less than a year. That's an amazing phenomenon when you consider its size. Yes sir...." He paused again, mouth open, then hastily went on: "Yes sir. I wondered if it wasn't the wild birds' diet. I sent a man into the Cloud Mountains to locate an Ormoo. He found your bird's nest." Cosmo's green eyes were opaque. Revulsion for the slave breeder welled in his throat. * * * * * Bemmelman's manner was derisive. He rubbed his nose, said: "One day my man found a shrub in the nest. He sent it to me on the chance that it might be what I was looking for. It was. The leaves contain a drug, which, when injected into the bloodstream, accelerates maturity at an unbelievable rate." His lids drew down. "I injected it into one of the slave children in minute doses every twenty days. The child reached adolescence in eighteen months. In two years' time, she was full grown." "You can breed slaves like guinea pigs now, eh Bemmelman?" Cosmo's voice was low. "And in two years' time have them ready for the market." Bemmelman said, "Certainly," and paused. "What are you listening for?" Cosmo asked suddenly. "Nothing. Nothing at all." His little eyes darted about the room. "Unfortunately," he went on hurriedly, "I used up all the drug on the experiment, and I haven't been able to locate any more of the plants. No sir, we've scoured the Cloud Mountains. They're difficult to explore. Infra red rays help some, but not much." "Who's the spy you planted among my men?" Cosmo interrupted in a cold voice. Bemmelman shut his mouth with a snap. "Who is he? Tell me, Bemmelman, or by heavens, I'll work you over until your own mother couldn't recognize you." Still the planter didn't reply. Cosmo hit him in the mouth. The planter's head struck the wall. He slid down to the floor, said groggily: "It doesn't matter. No sir. I won't need him any more. He's a Martian. His name's Natal."