Suddenly both men laughed. Jaro glanced at his watch. "We've got to
hurry. The ship leaves in forty-five minutes."
The door flew open, Joan sailed back into the room.
"Why so much amusement?" she said suspiciously. "We starting that
_comrade_ stuff again?"
"Get your hat on," Jaro said. "We have but forty-five minutes to make
that Super Liner for Mars. We can stop by your rooms for your trunk on
the way to the spaceport."
Joan drew back in amazement. "Forty-five minutes," she gasped. "But I
haven't got a ticket."
"Oh, I've got the tickets," Jaro and Landovitch both said in unison.
Then they closed their mouths, stared at each other.
A look of comprehension dawned on Joan's face. "Look, boys," she said
grimly. "This isn't a put-up job, by any chance?"
The two men recovered. Jaro said with wounded dignity, "'Put-up job.'
No. Whatever gave you that idea?"
"No. Of course not," Landovitch echoed.
"I see," said Joan, amusement glinting through her eyes in spite of
herself. "It's just by the purest sort of coincidence that we're all
three going the same way."
Nodding, Jaro and Landovitch came forward--and laughing, the three
began to walk. Somehow, the future looked promising--and dangerous.