The snick of a key in the lock did not break through their
preoccupation with one another, but the cynical voice of Dusty Britton
came as the shock of a bucket of cold water:
"Very pleasant scene," he drawled. "I hope I've interrupted something."
Scyth and Barbara parted in a whirl.
Scyth felt a sinking sensation in his middle as he realized that the
facts were far too clear; that the sensible course was a hasty retreat,
but the only path was barred by Dusty Britton.
Barbara took the woman's course. "Don't you ever use the doorbell?" she
asked icily.
Dusty smiled sourly. "I always have," he said. "Up to now. But this
time I want words with the gentleman in question instead of losing him
out through the back door."
"I think I should explain," said Scyth uncertainly.
Dusty chuckled. "What sort of explanation do you think I'll accept?" he
asked the Marandanian.
"But I--"
"Stow it, Scyth. You couldn't explain a thing and you know it."
Barbara snorted angrily. "See here, Dusty, you can't come in here and
start--"
"I'm not starting anything. I'm just seeking a conference with Scyth."
"How did you know?" asked the Marandanian uncertainly.
"By being just smart enough to find a tomcat by knowing where the
tomcat is likely to prowl."
"Meaning?" demanded Barbara icily.
Dusty ignored her. To Scyth he said, "I don't know beans about
barytrine fields or generators, but I guessed that you'd set it up on
earth somewhere, start it cooking, and wetnurse it until it came to a
boil. That would leave you on Earth with time to kill. Since time hangs
heavy, you'd probably look up one of the only two people you know. The
more attractive one, Scyth. So I've been haunting the front door like a
private eye."
Barbara coughed. "You took that right out of The Space Patrol Fights
The Overlords of Delgon."
"So I've got good writers," grinned Dusty.
"What do you intend to do?" asked Scyth nervously.
Dusty faced Scyth. Dusty topped the Marandanian by perhaps an inch or
two and covered him by a good twenty pounds. He guessed that if it came
to roughhouse he would probably win. He poised himself on the balls of
his feet, just in case. He had no way of guessing the speed or power of
the wiry-looking Scyth Radnor and so he was taking no chances.
"I became a professional bum because of you and your phanobands and
your menslators and your barytrine fields," he said bluntly. "I was
laughed out of everything I had. So now you're going to go with me and
tell 'em all that I was right. We'll have the big domes out to take a
look at your spacecraft, have 'em inspect your barytrine doodad, take a
gander at whatever it is you call phanobands, and so on."
Scyth understood all too well. He was trapped, faced by a man who could
take him apart bit by bit without much trouble, and if he came out of
it alive, he would end up by being a bigger bum than Dusty Britton had
become. Scyth had fumbled badly by taking time off for fun and games
with Barbara and he knew it. The only thing to do was to clear out of
here no matter what happened afterwards. For once the barytrine field
snapped on, any evidence of Scyth Radnor's attempt at dalliance could
not come to light for a thousand years.
His hand lifted slowly to the inside pocket of his jacket as he said,
"I'll be glad to help you, Dusty. Naturally, none of us have any notion
of making things tough for anybody. So--"
Scyth went into whirlwind motion. His hand came out from inside the
coat carrying a fluted-barrelled weapon. As the end of the thing
cleared the lapel of Scyth's jacket he was fingering the trigger and a
pale emanence seared out and cut down and over in a slashing arc.
* * * * *
But at the whirl of action, Dusty's hand arrowed into the space between
the lower two buttons of his dress shirt and came out with a snub-nosed
automatic.
The pale slash of Scyth's weapon was blotted out by the flash and
racket of a shot.
Scyth whirled, flinging his weapon against the wall from an
outstretched hand. The thing hit with a crunching sound and Scyth
continued to turn on rubbery legs, sinking and sinking and turning
until he sat heavily on the floor. He sat, stunned, just long enough
to fold his hands over his belly. Then he folded forward over them and
rolled around sidewise as if falling out of his own lap. He half-rolled
and fell a-sprawl on his face. A spread of blood stained the white
carpet.
Dusty looked down at Scyth. He looked from Scyth to the snub-nosed gun
in his hand and swallowed heavily. The gun dropped to the floor with
a muffled thud from nerveless fingers; Dusty looked at Barbara out of
far-away eyes and said, "He--er--I--"
Then he slid to the floor in a dead faint.
Barbara stifled a scream. The whole thing had been lightning-fast, but
she had caught most of it. Scyth had shot first but now he was bleeding
on her carpet. Dusty had shot second and was lying in a dead faint.
Hysteria choked up in her but she drove it back. She wanted to laugh
hysterically. She wanted to let go and slide to the floor and go to
sleep while someone else came in and cleaned up the mess.
Realizing that she could only hold off the rising hysteria until
someone did make a rational move, Barbara reached for and drained the
highball on the bar. She augmented this slug with a muscle-sized hooker
from the bottle. The liquor burned down and helped to iron out her
jittery nerves.
She grabbed the ice-pitcher which was filled now with melted cubes and
a slosh of water. Unceremoniously she poured the cold mess over Dusty's
white face.
Dusty's eyes fluttered and his voice made spluttering noises. "Wha--?"
he fumbled.
"Come off it!" snapped Barbara.
Dusty sat up weakly. He looked around for a moment as if he weren't
quite sure of where he was. Then he caught sight of Scyth and it all
came back to him. He scrambled to his feet and took the bottle from
Barbara's hand. He took a healthy slug himself and then said, "He tried
to--tried to--"
Barbara laughed hysterically. Between gales of half-mad laughter, she
said, "Tried to beat the fastest man--in The Space Patrol--to the draw!"
Dusty slapped her across the face with the flat of his hand. "Shut up!"
he roared. "Shut up and make sense!"
She came out of the hysteria instantly, shrinking back from Dusty with
a hand against the growing redness on her face. "Dusty--don't--"