The catechism went on for hours; and ended only to be resumed early the next day. And so it continued on the following day, and on the day after. The Martian was puzzled. They seemed to want to know so many things! Dr. Smith had questioned him on every subject--mechanics, electricity, magnetism, chemistry, colloids, catalysts, transmutation of metals--everything. He feared that they were wasting time, but did not think it proper to object when they were going to so much trouble on his account. Nevertheless, he could not help worrying; and that night, when the pale young man brought him his food, he asked timidly: "Do they make the ship?..." The pale young man looked at the floor, biting his lips. Then he went to the door, opened it, and looked out into the hall. He closed the door softly, and came near the couch. He looked straight into the Martian's eyes. "There is no ship!" "No ship?" "No." The young man was flushed and angry. He spoke very fast: "That fat crook is not helping you.... But you are helping him--you bet!..." "Does--does he not think--think I am the Martian?..." "Oh, he thinks you're a Martian, all right! He knows you are. He's taking out patents already." The other shook his head uncomprehendingly. "Don't you see it? Where you come from they know things that they never even imagined here. You got knowledge in your head worth millions of dollars; I mean, you have facts which are of great value to Blumberg. Why, already you've told him to make gold out of lead--something very precious from something worthless. And a hundred other things besides. "He does not care about you; he cares about your knowledge.... Do you see?" "Yes." The young man's anger suddenly abated, and he glanced fearfully at the door. "I'm sorry," he said gruffly, "but somebody had to tell you. You won't get any help here!" He turned, and almost ran from the room. * * * * * The Martian sat perfectly still for a long time. Then he climbed down from the couch, and crawled to the door. He reached up and grasped the knob. The young man had left it unlocked, and in a moment he was in the dim hallway. He crawled along, keeping close to the wall, until he came to the top of a stairway. He felt the cool night air on his face. Very slowly he lowered himself down the steps. He came to a wide door leading out into the open. Seated in a chair by this doorway was a man, whistling. The Martian waited patiently in the shadows until the man stood up, yawned, and strolled away. Outside, there were high, dark buildings all around him. He found himself in a narrow canyon running between them. He crawled down this canyon to the right, close against the buildings. The paving beneath him was hard, and hurt his knees. But he did not stop. Someone was walking towards him. He could not escape being seen. He was near a large light on a pole. He raised his hand in a gesture of greeting....