Marley followed him cautiously, alert for any trickery. Presently they
stood before the case and Marley unlocked it, reaching greedily for
the polished stock. He cradled the gun in his arms lovingly, savoring
triumph. With this in his hands, he could defy a world.
"There is no other like it, nor any but I to make one," Tydore said
with a strange smile.
"Why did you make it?" asked Marley.
"I made it for you."
[Illustration: "_I made it for you...._"]
Marley laughed aloud. It was an alien sound in the thin, cold air of
the tower. "You're a liar, Tydore. You built this weapon long before I
ever left Earth and you know it."
"By you, I meant simply men like you," Tydore said. "When the first
Earthmen came and befouled Mars with their presence, I knew that I
must make the weapon." He smiled, showing even white teeth. "A small
triumph, but things are not to be measured by whether they are great
or small. Rather by their flavor, their grace, and their neatness,
Marley."
"You speak of triumph, old man," snorted Marley derisively, "while your
precious weapon is in my hands."
Tydore shrugged. "As I knew it would be one day when I spread the tales
of what the weapon would do. It drew you as a lodestone draws a sliver
of iron."