I stopped. I didn't lower my gun. "That bloody wench we spoke about yesterday. You know, out in front of that shack? Well, just a thought, of course, but if you pull me in and if I get _it_, what'll become of her, do you suppose? Mean to say, I couldn't support her when I was dead, could I?" "Support her?" Surprise jumped into my voice. "What I said. She's my wife, you know. Back on Earth, I mean. I skipped out on her a few years back, but yesterday I was on my way to looking her up when you--" "She didn't recognize the name Harry Smythe," I said coldly. "I'm afraid you'll have to think a little faster." "Of course she didn't! How could she? That ain't my name. What made you think it was?" Bright beads of sweat sparkled on his forehead, and his lips had that frantic looseness of lips not entirely under control. "You left her," I grunted. "But you followed her across space anyway. Just to tell her you were sorry and you wanted to come back. Is that it?" "Well--" His eyes were calculating. "Not the God's honest, mate, no. I didn't know she was here. Not at first. But there was this Spider, see? This Martian. His name was Tahily and he used to hang around the saloons and he talked a lot, see? Then's when I knew...." "So it was you who killed him," I said. "One murder wasn't enough back on Earth; you had to pile them up on the planets." I could feel something begin to churn inside of me. "Wait! Sure, I knocked off the Martian. But a fair fight, see? That Spider jumped my claim. A fair fight it was, and anybody'd done the same. But even without that, he had it coming anyway, wouldn't you say? Bigamist and all that, you know? I mean marrying a woman already married." His lips were beginning to slobber. I watched them with revulsion in my stomach. "Wouldn't you say, mate? Just a lousy, stinking Martian, I mean!" I swallowed. I turned away and went around the rock and looked down. One look was enough. Blood was running down the cheek of the prone little Martian boy, and it was coming from his mouth. Then I turned back to the shaking man. "Like I say, mate! I mean, what would you've done in my place? Whistling always did drive me crazy. I can't stand it. A phobia, you know. People _suffer_ from phobias!" "What did you do?" I took three steps toward him. I felt my lips straining back from my teeth. "Wait now, mate! Like I say, it's a phobia. I can't stand whistling. It makes me suffer--" "So you cut out his tongue?" I didn't wait for his answer. I couldn't wait. While I was still calm, I raised my gun on his trembling figure. I didn't put the gun up again until his body stopped twitching and his fingers stopped clawing in the sands. * * * * * From the desk to the outside door, the hospital corridor runs just a few feet. But I'd have known her at any distance. I sighed, got to my feet and met her halfway.