Their way took them into a tunnel which sloped for a few hundred yards into the earth, then debouched into a small cavern. Into the far wall of this was set a grilled gateway which, when opened by the girl, revealed--an elevator. Into this she helped Salvation. Chip and Syd, delayed by the same doubt, held back. The girl, noting their hesitation, addressed them directly for the first time. "This way," she said. "Come on! Quickly!" Chip said suspiciously, "Just a minute, sister. How do we know this isn't a trick of some kind--" Her eyes flamed electric-blue, and her voice cracked like a whip. "Don't be a fool! Get in here--and hurry! When he thinks it over he may change his mind. We're getting away with murder!" It didn't make sense, but there was nothing to gain by lingering here. The two entered the conveyance, the girl pressed a button and concealed motors whined as they began to descend swiftly. But the last word was still Chip's. "That's just what you _have_ been getting away with," he acknowledged grimly, "but you're nearing the end of your rope now--Lorelei!" In the semidarkness, the girl's eyes were pools of liquid surprise. "Getting away with--end of--I don't understand?" "Murder!" gritted Chip. "Murder and piracy. A dozen spacecraft within the past two months, scuttled and every man of their crews done to death. But your siren-song won't tempt many more, Lorelei. The Space Patrol is on to your alluring little trap. You may finish _us_ off, but the battle fleet will find you eventually, and when it does--" He didn't finish his prophecy, for the elevator came to rest; the door opened. And peering in at them, hurrying forward to greet them and take the sagging weight of the aged missionary from the girl's arm, was a white-haired old man. "Alison!" he cried. "You're back safely! Thank the Lord! You shouldn't have gone above. It's dangerous, child, dangerous to mingle with such scoundrels! Who are these--?" And then the girl did a surprising thing. A particularly surprising thing, inasmuch as a few minutes ago, facing Blacky Jordan like a golden Valkyr, her boldness had won from Chip Warren a grudging admiration. She fled to the old man's side, buried her face in his shoulder and cried: "Daddy--this piracy, this murder and bloodshed--these men think _I_ am part of it!" The old man said, "Now, now, dear!" soothingly, and glared reproof at his visitors. "There must be some mistake--" And to the others he suggested, "Gentlemen, will you come with me? We must get to the bottom of this." Their journey this time was short. Through one door to a series of warm, well-lighted chambers. But stupefying. Because here, at what Chip realized must be the very core of the tiny planetoid, had been carved from solid rock quarters that matched, in efficiency and luxury, any elaborate dwelling on the face of a civilized planet!