"Can't help that! We've got important business. In a very few minutes--_Ahh!_ There he goes now!" Chip had gone to the _perilens_ the moment he entered the ship; now he saw in its reflector that which he had expected. The gushing orange spume of a spaceship roaring from its cradle. "Hurry, Syd!" There were a lot of things Syd Palmer wanted to ask. He wanted to know _who_ went _where_; he was bursting with curiosity about the "important business" which had brought his pal back from town in such a rush; his keen eye also had detected a needle-gun burn on Chip's coat-sleeve. But he was too good a companion to waste time now on such trivia. "O.Q.," he snapped. "It's your pigeon!" And he disappeared. They heard his voice calling to the workmen, the scuff of equipment being disengaged from the _Chickadee's_ hull, the thin, high whine of warming hypatomics. Salvation looked at Warren quizzically. "It smells," he ventured gently, "like trouble." "It is trouble," Chip told him. "Plenty trouble!" "In that case--" said the old man mildly--"I guess I'd better get the rotor stripped for action." He stepped to the gunnery turret, dropped the fore-irons and stripped their weapon for action. "'Be ye men of peace,'" he intoned, "'but gird firmly thy loins for righteous battle!' Thus saith the Lord God which is Jehovah. Selah!" Then came Syd's cry from the depths of the hyporoom. "All set, Chip! Lift gravs!" Warren's finger found a stud. And with a gusty roar the _Chickadee_ rocketed into space on a pillar of flame. * * * * * Two hours later, Chip was still following the bright pinpoint of scarlet which marked the course of his quarry. In the time that had elapsed since their take-off, he had told his friends the whole story. When he told about the Lorelei, Salvation Smith's seamy old features screwed up in a perplexed grimace. "A woman pirate in the Belt, son? I find it hard to believe. Yet--" And when he described the death of Johnny Haldane, anger smoldered in the missionary's eyes, and Syd Palmer's hands knotted into tight, white fists. Said Syd, "A man with a scar, eh? Well, we'll catch him sooner or later. And when we do--" His tone boded no good to the man who had slain an old and loved friend. "As a matter of fact," offered Salvation, "we've got him now. Any time you say the word, Chip. We're faster than he is. We can close in on him in five minutes." "I know," nodded Warren grimly. "But we won't do it--yet. I'm borrowing a bit of Johnny's strategy. I've been plotting his course. As soon as I'm sure of his destination, we'll take care of _him_. But our first and most vital problem is to locate the Lorelei's hideaway." Syd said, "That's all right with me, chum. I like a good scrap as much as the next guy. Better, maybe. But this isn't our concern, strictly speaking. What we ought to do is report this matter to the Space Patrol, let them take care of it." Salvation shook his head.