The ship’s disaster siren pealed along the corridors of the _Princess of Mars_. Medical men with stretchers came running and officers snapped out brisk orders. Hugh groped anxiously through the melee for Link. He struggled over twisted chair tubing and found his friend helping those who were hurt. “We’ve got work to do,” Link told him. Hugh rolled up his sleeves. He was still giddy. “I’m ready,” he said. It was reported later that there were no fatalities, but there were enough injured persons to keep the infirmary staff busy for awhile. Hugh and Link, working side by side with the medical men, had not seen anything of Benasco since the accident. The ship’s engineers revealed that a meteorite had caused the disaster. It had struck fairly close to the compartment occupied by Hugh and Link. Hugh shuddered to think what it would have been like to have been tossed about in their room like a pea in a whistle. Such would have been his and Link’s fate had the strike occurred half an hour earlier. The cadets had not yet had the opportunity to check their quarters for damage. When the physician in charge finally freed them with thanks for their help, Hugh thought about the stamps for the first time since the unnerving incident. “Link,” he said urgently, “we’ve got to get back and check on those stamps! This has been a perfect set up for Benasco and his scheme!” “Right behind you,” Link said as they hurried from the infirmary. Along the way, the two found warped walls and doors that had been flung open. Luckily all the occupants in the worst-hit area had been in the dining room at the terrible moment, or there surely would have been fatalities. Reaching their compartment, Hugh and Link found that the door had been forced open by the explosion. Hugh hurried over to the wall safe. He felt a chill of dread race through him. The vault door also was open and the chamber was empty. “They’re gone!” Hugh said hoarsely. “All of Dad’s stamps are gone!” Hugh slumped remorsefully on his cot, taut fingers combing through his hair. “Dad wanted to have the stamps insured,” he said bitterly, “but I was trying to save him money. The insurance fee was enormous, and on top of that he would have had to pay the fare both to and from Mars for the agents who would carry the shipment. How I wish they had done it now!” “If Benasco has the stamps, we may still be able to recover them,” Link said. “Let’s go see him.” Hugh got up, his face set, his palm shaped into a fist. “If Benasco _is_ the one, I’ll personally—oh, never mind! Come on!”