"_Sta._ We must go back tonight," said Zeeth, in the Venusian dialect. He appeared from behind Hobbs, a native of Venus, with the familiar soft plumpness and huge feet of the race. His dog-like eyes examined Vanning. "New?" The detective introduced himself. He was secretly puzzled. One of these three men, apparently, was Callahan--but which one? None of them resembled the man Vanning had seen on the micro-projector back at Venus Landing. But, still-- III On impulse, Vanning took out the make-up kit and held it up. "I found this under the shelves. Yours, Hobbs? Or Sanderson?" Both men shook their heads, frowning. Vanning glanced at the Venusian. "Yours, Zeeth?" "_Esta_, it is not mine. What is it?" "Just a case." Vanning stowed it away, and sat down on one of the cots, wondering. As he saw it, he had two objectives to reach. First--escape. Second--bring in Callahan. Not merely escape, though. He thought of Lysla. A slave ... _damn_! And the other two hundred slaves of the Swamja ... He couldn't leave them here. But what could he do? Conquer the Swamja? The thought was melodramatically crazy. Perhaps alone he might contrive to escape, and bring a troop of Space Patrolmen to wipe out the Swamja. An army, if necessary. The others, he saw, had seated themselves on the cots. Hobbs kicked off his sandals and sighed. "Wish I had a smoke. Oh, well." Vanning said sharply, "Callahan!" His eyes flicked from one to another, and found nothing but surprise in the faces turned to him. Sanderson rumbled, "What the devil are you jabbering about?" Vanning sighed. "I'm wondering something. When did you boys get here?" It was the mild-faced Hobbs who answered. "A couple of weeks ago, I believe. Within a few days of each other. Just before you arrived, in fact. But we recovered long before you did. It was only a miracle that saved your life, Vanning." "And before you three got here--any others come from outside? Lately, I mean." "Not for months," Hobbs answered. "So I heard. Why?" "Why? It proves that one of you is the man I'm after--Don Callahan. I'm a detective; I came to Venus to find Callahan, and--by accident--I followed him here. It stands to reason that one of you is the man I want." Sanderson grinned. "Don't you know what the guy looks like?" "No," Vanning admitted. "I've recognized him before by certain tricks he's got--the way he walks, the way he jerks his head around suddenly. Before he came to Venus, I found out, he went to an anthro-surgeon and got remodeled. A complete new chassis, face and body complete. Even got skin-grafts on his finger-tips. In time the old prints will grow back, but not for months. Meantime, Callahan's pretty well disguised." "Good Lord!" Hobbs said. "One of us--" Vanning nodded. "When he came to Venus, he put a disguise over his new, remodeled face. That's gone now, of course. One of you three is Callahan."