"They have vanished." The outlaw shrugged, half a laugh breaking through his beard. "My regrets, Marward. I had no hand in it." Gion bared his teeth wolfishly. "I did." Bland astonishment swept Kurland's face. Then, slowly, a grim smile thrust aside his wonder. "Forgive my start, Marward. You have stolen so much." Fiercely Gion brushed aside the cold insult. He stepped back, his face in shadow. The prison cell was electric with his vibrant hate. "You will have it, will you, Kurland? I came to make an offer." "Go on," said the outlaw, immobile. "I am not loved, here on Jupiter," said Gion. "I usurp the authority of greater men. I intrigue, I plot. I conquer and steal, if you will. It requires gold. A fortune." He paused, watching the outlaw. "An agent on Venus flashed me word that the Jewels of Orion, crown jewels of a vanished race on some forgotten planet beyond the stars, were to be shipped once more to Betelgoran. A hundred fortunes, Kurland. I gave orders and he shipped as passenger, with the consigned jewels." "And then?" Kurland's eyes burned through the gloom. "The _Plutonian_ crashed somewhere ten million miles out in space," said Gion slowly. "My agent. He died with her, and with her people. But he sent the coordinates through even as she went down on some uncharted asteroid. I know where the hulk lies piled, an iron coffin for the Orion jewels." Kurland's glare was deadly. "Make your offer, vulture." "Go and bring me the jewels." * * * * * Kurland flung back his head, a sudden roar of laughter in his muscled throat. The chains clashed on wrist and ankle as he flung derision in the other's paling face. "You send a wolf on a jackal's errand, Marward! You think I would return, or venture one lean hungry mile on such a rat's voyage to help you on your way, you whom I have fought these many months, you who broke and exiled me, you who made me outlaw and today must hang me for it?" His scorn rasped bitingly in the prison cell, but Gion of Jupiter was not moved by the love or hate of men. He nodded to the tiny barred window. "Look from the window." Kurland looked, seeing in the growing pearl of dawn the black and ugly shapes athwart the sky were six gibbets stood ranged along the ramparts of Gion's northern fortress in the Montral foothills. "You understand," nodded Gion, leaning against the door. "You will return, and with the jewels, or your five young companions will be swinging there to greet you when my men take you, as they took you once before, Kurland." The outlaw turned, ice-veined, but Gion did not stir. "I am a prisoner. Judged and doomed. No ship, no crew." "Escapes have been arranged before." Kurland surveyed the big man curiously. "Why not go yourself on this golden errand, Marward?" Gion shrugged. "Leaving my empire to the wolves? You know I dare not, nor trust a lieutenant in my place. This is not a secret for friends or followers."