I did not appear at that morning meal. I was exhausted and drugged
with lack of sleep. I had a moment with Snap to tell him what had
occurred. Then I sought out Carter. He had his little chart room
insulated. And we were cautious. I told him what Snap and I had
learned: the rays from the Moon, proving that Grantline had
concentrated a considerable ore body. I also told him of Grantline's
message.
"We'll stop on the way back, as he directs, Gregg." He bent closer to
me. "At Ferrok-Shahn I'm going to bring back a cordon of
Interplanetary Police. The secret will be out, of course, when we stop
at the Moon. We have no right, even now, to be flying this vessel as
unguarded as it is."
He was very solemn. And he was grim when I told him of the invisible
eavesdropper.
"You think he overheard Grantline's message? Who was it? You seem to
feel it was George Prince?"
I told him I was convinced the prowler went into A20. When I mentioned
the purser, who seemed to have been watching me earlier in the night,
and again was sitting in the smoking room when the eavesdropper fled
past, Carter looked startled.
"Johnson is all right, Gregg."
"Does he know anything about this Grantline affair?"
"No--no," said Carter hastily. "You haven't mentioned it, have you?"
"Of course I haven't. But why didn't Johnson hear that eavesdropper?
And what was he doing there, anyway, at that hour of the morning?"
The Captain ignored my questions. "I'm going to have that Prince
suite searched--we can't be too careful.... Go to bed, Gregg, you need
rest."
I went to my cabin. It was located aft, on the stern deck, near the
stern watch tower. A small metal room with a chair, a desk and a bunk.
I made sure no one was in it. I sealed the lattice grill and the door,
set the alarm trigger against any opening of them, and went to bed.
The siren for the midday meal awakened me. I had slept heavily. I felt
refreshed.
I found the passengers already assembled at my table when I arrived in
the dining salon. It was a low vaulted metal room with blue and yellow
tube lights. At its sides the oval windows showed the deck, with its
ports on the dome side, through which a vista of the starry firmament
was visible. We were well on our course to Mars. The Moon had dwindled
to a pin point of light beside the crescent Earth. And behind them our
Sun blazed, visually the largest orb in the heavens. It was some
sixty-eight million miles from the Earth to Mars. A flight,
ordinarily, of some ten days.
There were five tables in the dining salon, each with eight seats.
Snap and I had one of the tables. We sat at the ends, with the
passengers on each of the sides.
Snap was in his seat when I arrived. He eyed me down the length of the
table. In a gay mood, he introduced me to the three men already
seated:
"This is our third officer, Gregg Haljan. Big, handsome fellow, isn't
he? And as pleasant as he is good-looking. Gregg, this is Sero Ob
Hahn."
I met the keen, somber gaze of a Venus man of middle age. A small,
slim graceful man, with sleek black hair. His pointed face,
accentuated by the pointed beard, was pallid. He wore a white and
purple robe; upon his breast was a huge platinum ornament, a device
like a star and cross entwined.
"I am happy to meet you, sir." His voice was soft and deep.
"Ob Hahn," I repeated. "I should have heard of you, no doubt, but--"
A smile plucked at his thin, gray lips. "That is an error of mine, not
yours. My mission is that all the universe shall hear of me."
"He's preaching the religion of the Venus mystics," Snap explained.
"And this enlightened gentleman," said Ob Hahn ironically, nodding to
the man, "has just termed it fetishism. The ignorance--"
"Oh, I say!" protested the man at Ob Hahn's side. "I mean, you seem to
think I meant something offensive. And as a matter of fact--"
"We've an argument, Gregg," laughed Snap. "This is Sir Arthur
Coniston, an English gentleman, lecturer and sky-trotter--that is, he
will be a sky-trotter; he tells us he plans a number of voyages."
The tall Englishman, in his white linen suit, bowed acknowledgement.
"My compliments, Mr. Haljan. I hope you have no strong religious
convictions, else we will make your table here very miserable!"
The third passenger had evidently kept out of the argument. Snap
introduced him as Rance Rankin. An American--a quiet, blond fellow of
thirty-five or forty.