My gaze turned to the dance floor. Goon-Face had his eyes on us, and they were as cold as six Indians going South. "We'll talk about your plan at intermission," I said, shivering. "Now, we'd better start playing. John, do you know _On An Asteroid With You_?" "I know _everything_," said John Smith. I turned to my piano with a shudder. I didn't dare look at that horrible fiddle again. I didn't dare think what kind of soul-chilling tones might emerge from its ancient depths. And I didn't dare look again at the second monstrosity, the one named John Smith. I closed my eyes and plunged into a four-bar intro. Hammer-Head joined in on vibro-drums and Fat Boy on clarinet, and then-- My eyes burst open. A shiver coursed down my spine like gigantic mice feet. The tones that surged from that monstrous bass were ecstatic. They were out of a jazzman's Heaven. They were great rolling clouds that seemed to envelop the entire universe with their vibrance. They held a depth and a volume and a richness that were astounding, that were like no others I'd ever heard. First they went _Boom-de-boom-de-boom-de-boom_, and then, _boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom_, just like the tones of all bass fiddles. But there was something else, too. There were overtones, so that John wasn't just playing a single note, but a whole chord with each beat. And the fullness, the depth of those incredible chords actually set my blood tingling. I could _feel_ the tingling just as one can feel the vibration of a plucked guitar string. I glanced at the cash customers. They looked like weary warriors getting their first glimpse of Valhalla. Gap-jawed and wide-eyed, they seemed in a kind of ecstatic hypnosis. Even the silent, bland-faced Martians stopped sipping their wine-syrup and nodded their dark heads in time with the rhythm. I looked at The Eye. The transformation of his gaunt features was miraculous. Shadows of gloom dissolved and were replaced by a black-toothed, crescent-shaped smile of delight. His eyes shone like those of a kid seeing Santa Claus. We finished _On An Asteroid With You_, modulated into _Sweet Sally from Saturn_ and finished with _Tighten Your Lips on Titan_. We waited for the applause of the Earth people and the shrilling of the Martians to die down. Then I turned to John and his fiddle. "If I didn't hear it," I gasped, "I wouldn't believe it!" "And the fiddle's so old, too!" added Hammer-Head who, although sober, seemed quite drunk. "Old?" said John Smith. "Of course it's old. It's over five thousand years old. I was lucky to find it in a pawnshop. Only it's not a fiddle but a _Zloomph_. This is the only one in existence." He patted the thing tenderly. "I tried the hole in it but it isn't the right one." I wondered what the hell he was talking about. I studied the black, mirror-like wood. The aperture in the vesonator was like that of any bass fiddle. "Isn't right for what?" I had to ask.