"Knowledge!" said Biggs feverishly. "Knowledge is the answer to all problems. It's right on the tip of my mind, but I can't quite grasp it. Mississ--no! Thames? No!" "Thames and tide," I punned, "wait for no man. Oh, go 'way, will you please? I've got things to do. But quick!" * * * * * So he went away, and I snapped on the old powerhouse and pretty soon current hummed and sang through the coils and I made the ether vibrate. And I do mean vibrate. I contacted Joe Marlowe at Lunar III, Joe being not only one of the best bug-pounders in the business but also a personal friend. And I asked him to find out, (1) if this bozo Thaxton was really a friend of Doc Challenger's, (2) if there'd been any leak on Earth about our gun-running exploits, and (3) if there were hot and cold running water in Venusian hoosegows. Pretty soon the answer came back. "No, no, a thousand times no." After which Joe asked me, on our private conversation band, "What's all this about somebody named Thaxton?" So I told him. So it turned out that Thaxton was aboard the _Saturn_ on forged papers in the first place, and that in the second place we couldn't clap him in irons even if he were a secret agent of the Venusian government, and that in the third place we shouldn't have let ourselves get in such a jam to begin with. "Besides," tapped Joe, "all you've got to do is to keep your collective mouths shut. You're running under a navicert, and that means you won't be inspected at Sun City. You'll be free to make a short hop to New California and leave the aft hold cargo with the assigned parties." And with that he signed off. A moment later the door busted open and in came Cap Hanson, his face the color of an uncleaned pullet. He bawled, "Sparks! Sparks, for gosh sakes' get in touch with Earth immediately, if not sooner! Find out what we're to do! That there Thaxton guy, he's a phony. A--" "Park it, Cap," I said glumly, "and hear the rest. He's a spy. And he's also an esper." "You--you knew?" "Mr. Biggs guessed it an hour ago. We talked the situation over." Then I told him about calling Joe Marlowe, and went on to detail the hopelessness of our situation. But Hanson is a fighting man. He flinched as I threw verbal lefts and rights at him, but he was still sparring feebly when the bell rang. He came up with, "Well, then, get in touch with Chief Garrity. Tell him to turn this crate around. We'll go back to Earth--" Came the dawn! "Right!" I yelled. "Right!" At that moment a voice spoke from the doorway. "No, gentlemen," said the mysterious Mr. Thaxton, "that is just what you will _not_ do! You will continue on to Venus, that your perfidy may be properly punished!" * * * * * It's funny how the mind works. There at that moment when I should have been taking a swandive into the chilly waters of despair, do you know what I found myself thinking?