The vessel took off, rose straight through the atmosphere for about forty miles, and then hung, idly circling Earth, awaiting clearance before launching into the pulse drive. A full course between Earth and Grismet had to be plotted and cleared by the technicians at the dispatch center because the mass of the vessel increased so greatly with its pulsating speed that if any two ships passed within a hundred thousand miles of each other, they would at least be torn from their course, and might even be totally destroyed. Wilkins had proposed a pinochle game, and he and Jordan sat playing in the control room. The pilot had been winning and he was elated. "Seventy-six dollars so far," he announced after some arithmetic. "The easiest day's pay I made this month." Jordan shuffled the cards and dealt them out, three at a time. He was troubled by his own thoughts, and so preoccupied that he scarcely followed the game. "Spades, again," the pilot commented gleefully. "Well, ain't that too bad for you." He gave his cigar a few chomps and played a card. Jordan had been looking out of the window. The ship had tilted and he could see without rising the rim of Earth forming a beautiful geometric arc, hazy and blue in its shimmering atmosphere. "Come on, play," the pilot said, impatiently. "I just led an ace." Jordan put down his cards. "I guess I better quit," he said. "What the devil!" the pilot said angrily. "You can't quit like that in the middle of a deal. I got a flush and aces." "I'm sorry," Jordan said, "but I'm going to lie down in my cabin until we are given clearance." He opened the door of the little room and went into the hall. He walked down past his own cabin and stopped in front of another door, a new one that was sheathed in permallium. He hesitated a few moments; then he snapped open the outside latch and walked in, letting the door swing closed behind him. * * * * * Hall lay unmoving in the middle of the floor, his legs and arms fastened in greaves of permallium. Jordan was embarrassed. He did not look directly at the robot. "I don't know whether you want to talk to me or not," he started. "If you don't want to, that's all right. But, I've followed you since you landed on Earth, and I don't understand why you did what you did. You don't have to tell me, but I wish you would. It would make me feel better." The robot shrugged--a very human gesture, Jordan noted. "G-go ahead and ask me," he said. "It d-doesn't make any difference now." Jordan sat down on the floor. "The boy was the one who gave you away. If not for him, no one would have ever known what planet you were on. Why did you let the kid get away?" The robot looked straight at the agent. "Would you kill a child?" he asked.