The tiny monkey-thing led the way toward Space Boulevard, and into the engineer's mind an encouraging thought came. _Onupari has not left!_ And Frederix raged inwardly against the callousness, the bloodlust of that fat, swarthy renegade whom he had seen so many times glossing over crimes charged to him by the Embassy. The freighter had not taken off yet; the thunder of its atomics would have been easily heard. He might yet--_what_? If the Service men--_If_-- As if they, trying to resuscitate an unconscious man almost an hour's flight away, could come in time! V Dwells there a thing in all of space Without a smile to light its face? Intellect: Puck's dwelling place? "What fools we mortals be!" Ahead he saw an enormous Geissler tube sign flashing alternately with neon's bright red and argon's blue: THE SPACASINO Dine & Dance--Floorshow Tonite Joy Rikki & Martian Madcaps and simultaneously, he heard voices and the double tread of footsteps down a cross street. The robot slipped intelligently into the shadow of an ornate doorway and he followed. Coarse voices--the voices of space-hardened men: "We gotta git Manuel out to the ship. 'S been loaded since sundown. What'll the Envoy think? Cripes, we're behind schedule now--'most a day!" "You git 'im out! Ain't I tried? Y'know 'ow 'e is when 'e gits drunk! Give the blighter a bevy of chorines to dance in front of 'im and some vod-vil stuff and the blinkin' fool will set there all the bloomin' night 'e will, if 'e's anywheres near tight, an 'ell itself won't move 'im!" ... The voices became inaudible-- Inspiration came to Hunter Frederix then. It was a futile, vain hope. It was a desperate gamble and Death held the odds; but an hour's delay might mean success. Andres would soon be conscious; the rockets would flash out of Botrodus. A wild plan flashed across his brain, and then a pure thought which held in it understanding and acknowledgment--understanding of one man's weakness and acknowledgment of another's genius. He looked down at the robot, saw the photocellular eyes turned upwards to his face. Despite the seriousness of it all, he smiled crookedly as he caught the automaton up in his arms and hurried across to a doorway marked plainly "Stage Door--No Loiterers!" The door opened as he crossed the photo-electric eye on the threshold, and he came upon a hectic scene: a sweating, cigar-chewing manager upbraiding a group of voluptuous chorines. "Listen, girls, please can't you think up a new routine? This fellow's a madman when he's drunk and he might take it in his cranium to tear the joint apart. How's about that Starshine Sequence?" Frederix shouldered his way brusquely through the surprised throng, ignoring the angry remarks which came as his metal suit brushed bare arms and backs. No time for pardons now; seconds meant life or death--