"Not Ool," Gilk snarled. "I didn't want him to die. Only her. Ool would have stayed alive to suffer again." "But why?" Ool asked. "We were friends." "Friends!" Gilk spat the word at him. "After all that you did to me. I invented Gilkite--I alone--the only thing powerful enough to halt an entire invasion force. But you received all the glory." "Because you were a coward," Ryaa cried, stepping in front of Ool. "You ran away and left him to face the entire fleet alone." "I wasn't a coward," Gilk told her in a hurt tone. "There was always a chance that something might go wrong; that it might not stop them. Patrol Commanders are plentiful enough; Ool could have been replaced. But there is only one Gilk. No one could have replaced me." His voice rose to a shriek. "Then Ool took all the credit, and they laughed at me. But their great hero isn't a hero any longer." "You arranged all that, didn't you?" Ryyn asked. "Of course I arranged it. No one else would be clever enough. But for me it was simple. A little preparation of mine, slipped into the bride's clothing or perfume. Just a matter of timing. But this time I couldn't get to her things ahead of time. I suppose that was your idea. I had to come and do it myself. And I will!" With a swift motion he slipped from Ryyn's grasp. A needle glittered in his hand as he threw himself toward Ryaa. The guards stood helpless. Neither of them could fire without hitting Ryaa. Ryyn started forward but Ool was ahead of him. With one hand he sent Ryaa sprawling out of danger. With the other, which still held the gun, he struck Gilk a smashing blow across the face. The Martian staggered backward, tripped and fell. He screamed once and was still. Ryyn bent over him. "He fell on the needle," he announced. "At least it was quick." "Now I don't suppose that anyone will ever know how to make Gilkite," one of the guards said as they picked up the body. "Perhaps it's just as well," said the Oldest Man. "It's too dangerous a secret for anyone to possess. But tell us, Ryyn. What made you think of him?" Ryyn smiled. "The tools of our trades have changed quite a bit through the ages," he said. "But basically people haven't. The First Murderer that we know of killed his brother out of jealousy. It's still an important motive." "And with the motive established it wasn't hard to find your killer?" said the Oldest Man. "But you also mentioned that when the experiment was over, you thought that Ool might petition the committee to set aside this latest mating." Ryyn glanced at Ool, kneeling beside Ryaa, gathering her into his arms. "I think we'd better forget that part, sir," he suggested. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brides Of Ool, by M. A. Cummings