"Now then," said DeCastros, jouncing up and down a bit. "I trust that you have come to understand who is master of this ship, Mr. Wordsley?" His addressee continued to weep silently. After awhile it occurred to Captain DeCastros that what he was doing was expressly forbidden in the Rules of the Way, Section 90-G, and might, in fact, get him into a peck of trouble. So he got up, helped Mr. Wordsley to his feet, and began to brush him off. In a kindly voice he said, "You must have heard of Avis Solis." "I don't seem to remember it," Mr. Wordsley said. "It's a solitaire. One of those planets which depend upon dark, dwarf, satellite suns for heat, you know. It is almost always in eclipse, and I, for one, have always been glad of it." "Why is that?" said Mr. Wordsley, not really caring. His chest was giving him considerable pain. "Because it holds the darkest of memories for me. I lost a brother on Avis Solis. Perhaps you have heard of him. Malmsworth DeCastros. He was quite famous for certain geological discoveries on Titan at one time." "I don't think so." "You need not be sorry. The wretch was a murderer and a bad sport as well. I need not append that my brother and I were as unlike as night and day--though there is no night and day proper upon Avis Solis, of course. I imagine you would like to hear the story. Then you will undoubtedly understand how it is that I was so upset a moment ago by the sight of Avis Solis, and forgive me." Mr. Wordsley nodded. A birdlike, snake-charmed nod. * * * * * "Avis Solis is a planet absolutely unique, at least in this galaxy. In addition to being a solitaire, its surface is almost solidly covered to a depth of several meters with light-gathering layers of crystal which give it the brilliant, astral glow that you saw just now. Its satellite suns contribute hardly any light at all. It contains ample oxygen in its atmosphere, but hardly any water, and so is practically barren. An ill-advised mineralogical expedition brought us to Avis Solis." "Us?" Mr. Wordsley said. "There were six of us, five men and a woman. A woman fine and loyal and beautiful, with the body of a consummate goddess and the face of a tolerant angel. I was astrological surveyor and party chief." "I didn't know that you were once a surveyor." "It was seventeen years ago, and none of your business besides." "What happened then?" "Briefly, we were prospecting for ragnite, which was in demand at the time. We had already given up hopes of finding one gram of that mineral, but decided to make a last foray before blasting off. My brother, Malmsworth, stayed at our base camp. Poor Jenny--that was her name--remained behind to care for Malmsworth's lame ankle."