Before the day period was over he went to see the girl, dreading to face her with the news of the Mutes' slaying. But she already knew. "You needn't tell me." Her brown eyes were dazed with pain. "I know. They are dead." What was there to say? That he would have saved them if he could? That he was sorry? Furious at Lodar? They were only fine words. He turned silently to the bunk where McVane lay asleep, his gray head swathed in bandages. "He's all right," Ellenor said. "He lost a lot of blood, but I got the cook to bring some food. He ate it." Ray turned back to her. He took her arm and led her to a chair, aware once more of that tingle of pleasure at the touch of her. "I'll do what I can to help you," he said earnestly. "But you've got to promise Lodar that you'll keep quiet. If you don't I'm afraid he'll--" "I'm not afraid!" Her red lips curled. She had parted the long, dark hair in two braids, which she was now tugging as if for emphasis. "If you are my friend--" "I am," he interrupted swiftly. "God knows I'm sorry enough to be tangled up in this outfit! But it'll take more than just--" The door opened and Lodar walked in. He glanced suspiciously at the girl, then took a look at McVane. Evidently satisfied, he straightened up. "I saw the latch open and wondered if the girl was still safe." His dark glance rested impassively on her. "Have you decided to be sensible?" "Sure she has," Ray said quickly. "You can't frighten me!" The girl's dark eyes were unquailing before Lodar's. Her voice rose. "It's you who is afraid, you murderer! No matter how you strive--" "Shut up!" Lodar said. "You'll never see Earth!" she ended recklessly. Lodar spun on his heels and stalked out. "You idiot!" Ray hissed, then hurried after Lodar. She would drive the man to drastic action in spite of all effort to save her silly little neck! As he locked the door, Lodar eyed him curiously. "Quite the spitfire, isn't she?" he remarked mildly. Ray wondered if he meant just that or if he was covering up a consuming rage. He was still wondering about it as he uneasily went to his own cabin. Of one thing he was sure, that Lodar would save his own skin at any cost! That thought kept him tossing on his bunk long after he'd snapped off the light. He could hear the captain's restless movements in his cabin next door. He could hear the sounds of the Number Three repair crew, his ears were straining for the hum of the converters. There were many noises on the _Vulcan_, softer and more furtive. The stir of men off duty, the murmur of voices. Uneasy speculations. Opposition to Lodar's course seemed a material thing, a tangible force distilled of fear. Like a cross current that moved deeply. Ray scowled at the dark ceiling of his cabin. Of course, it was only imagination. The unusual silences. The cessation of driving power on the _Vulcan_. These were playing tricks with his ears. The _Vulcan_ was drifting, slowly curving off course toward the sun.