"Call me Andre," the Martian said. "A common name but foreign. It
should serve as a point of reference."
I had always wondered how a thing like a Martian could talk. Sometimes
I wondered if they really could.
"You won't need the gun," Andre said conversationally.
"I'll keep it, thanks. What do _you_ want?"
"I'll begin as Miss Casey did--by telling you things. Hundreds of
people disappeared from North America a few months ago."
"They always do," I told him.
"They ceased to exist--as human beings--shortly after they received a
book from Doc," the Martian said.
Something seemed to strike me in the back of the neck. I staggered, but
managed to hold onto the gun and stand up.
"Use one of those sneaky Martian weapons again," I warned him,
"and I'll kill the girl." Martians were supposed to be against the
destruction of any life-form, I had read someplace. I doubted it, but
it was worth a try.
"Kevin," Andre said, "why don't you take a bath?"
The Martian weapon staggered me again. I tried to say something. I
tried to explain that I was so dirty that I could never get clean no
matter how often I bathed. No words formed.
"But, Kevin," Andre said, "you aren't _that_ dirty."
* * * * *
The blow shook the gun from my fingers. It almost fell into the _thing_
on the floor, but at the last moment seemed to change direction and
miss it.