But his jubilation was not to be dampened. "We won't be here forever.
Um-um!" He smacked his lips, almost danced. "Radium! We'd better get
back a ways, we're too close to the stuff as it is."
They retreated to the edge of the stricken vegetation. Even here the
plants were sickly, wilted. Half a dozen of them were coated with red,
rust-like scales.
Jennifer suddenly grabbed his shoulder, shook him. "Come out of your
daze, Midas," she laughed a little hysterically. "Look at the plants.
They're dead. Don't you see. It's killed them. Wouldn't it kill the
plant men, too."
But Norman shook his head. "They know as much if not more about radium
than we do. It's dangerous, yes, but it's not a weapon." Suddenly he
dropped to his knees beside a dwarf shrub. It was one of those covered
with the red scales. "But, by Jupiter, this may be."
"What is it?" said the girl in a stifled voice.
"Blight!"
"What?" she asked in astonishment.
"Blight!" he repeated. "Don't you see? It's blight. Look." He pointed
to the scabrous red scale attacking the shrub.
She shook her head in bewilderment.
"If the Dohlmites aren't blight resistant, Jennifer, this may be the
weapon." His voice was hoarse with excitement, the radium forgotten.
He said, "In the early days in America, blight attacked the chestnut
trees. It wiped out every American chestnut from coast to coast."
"What about the other trees?" she asked, puzzled.
"Well," he admitted, "it didn't harm them."
"Maybe the plant men aren't susceptible to this disease, either."
"Maybe not, but it's a chance. It's the only chance that's presented
itself, and we haven't much time left before the Dohlmites will order
the attack on Ganymede." Tenderly, he dug up the infected plant,
wrapped its roots in his handkerchief.
"What in the world are you doing?"
"I'm going to infect a Dohlmite with this blight!" he replied grimly.
Jennifer giggled.
"What's so funny?" he wanted to know.
"Blight! It does seem such an odd method of attack."
Once back in the apartment, Jennifer dived beneath a cold shower.
Norman, though, went straight to the kitchen where he transplanted the
infected plant into a saucepan and took it out on the balcony.
He heard the front door open and close with a loud bang. He started
guiltily, thought who could that be? Should the Dohlmites discover the
infected plant that he was nurturing on his balcony, the penalty would
be swift and final. He dashed into the hall.
Jennifer's head stuck beyond her door revealing one bare wet shoulder.
Her blue eyes were panicky. "Who is it?"
He shook his head, went into the living-room. With a sigh of relief, he
recognized the Duchess.
"Norman, you're back!" cried the Duchess wildly. "I didn't know what
I'd do if you weren't here."
The young man's reassurance evaporated. The Duchess's blond hair was
disheveled. She was panting as if she'd been running.
"What's wrong?"
"We've been betrayed!" said the Duchess in a frightened voice.
X
"Betrayed!" echoed Norman.
The Duchess nodded. Her gray eyes were enormous. "I've been expecting
to keel over on the street all the way home!"
"Who? How?"
"One of your precious Earth men. Hops, he's called." She paused, said,
"I feel kind of dizzy! My God! You don't suppose the Dohlmites are
putting the finger on me, do you?"
"No. No, of course not. It's just shock. Sit down. Jennifer," he
called, "make the Duchess some tea, coffee, anything hot."
"Tea, hell," said the Duchess sinking on the couch. "Bring me a shot of
whiskey."
Jennifer had hastily slipped on her tunic. She brought a glass of
whiskey from the kitchen. The Duchess drank it neat.
"Now, what happened?" pressed Norman.
"Marcia told me," began the Duchess. "She's the girl in the troop I
told you about. The one who played the triangle with me and who's been
slipping us the green suits."
"Yes, yes," he interrupted impatiently.