I could agree with him there, but I made no comment.
It was now 6 A. M. Snap had been busy all night with routine cosmo-radios from the earth, following our departure. He had a pile of them beside him. Many were for the passengers; but anything that savored of a code was barred.
Nothing queer looking? I suggested.
No. Not a thing.
We were at this time no more than some sixty-five thousand miles from the moons surface. The Planetara presently would swing upon her direct course for Mars. There was nothing which could cause passenger comment in this close passing of the moon; normally we used the satellites attraction to give us additional starting speed.
It was now or never that a message would come from Grantline. He was supposed to be upon this earthward side of the moon. While Snap had rushed through with his routine, I had searched the moon surface with our glass, as I knew Carter was searching itand also the observer in his tower, very possibly.
But there was nothing. Copernicus and Kepler lay in full sunlight. The heights of the lunar mountains, the depths of the barren, empty seas were etched black and white, clear and clean. Grim, forbidding desolation, this unchanging moon! In romance, moonlight may shimmer and sparkle to light a lovers smile; but the reality of the moon is cold and bleak. There was nothing to show my prying eyes where the intrepid Grantline might be.
Nothing at all, Snap.
And Snaps helio mirrors, attuned for an hour now to pick up the faintest signal, were motionless.
If he has concentrated any appreciable amount of radio-active ore, said Snap, we should get an impulse from its Gamma rays.
But our receiving shield was dark, untouched. We tried taking hydrogen photographic impressions of the visible moon surface. A sequence of them, with stereoscopic lenses, forty-eight to the second. Our mirror-grid gave the magnified images; the spectro-heliograph, with its wave-length selection, pictured the mountain-levels, and slowly descended into the deepest seas.
There was nothing.
Yet in those moon cavernsa million million recesses amid the crags of that tumbled, barren surfacethe pin-point of movement which might have been Grantlines expedition could so easily be hiding! Could he have the ore insulated, fearing its Gamma rays would betray its presence to hostile watchers?
Or might disaster have come to him? Or he might not be upon this hemisphere of the moon at all
My imagination, sharpened by fancy of a lurking menace which seemed everywhere about the Planetara this voyage, ran rife with fears for Johnny Grantline. He had promised to communicate this voyage. It was now, or perhaps never.
Six-thirty came and passed. We were well beyond the earths shadow now. The firmament blazed with its vivid glories; the sun behind us was a ball of yellow-red leaping flames. The earth hung, opened to a huge, dull-red half-sphere.
We were within some forty thousand miles of the moon. Giant white ballall of its disc visible to the naked eye. It poised over the bow, and presently, as the Planetara swung upon her course for Mars, it shifted sidewise. The light of it glared white and dazzling in our tiny side windows.
Snap, with his habitual red celluloid eyeshade shoved high on his forehead, worked over our instruments.
Gregg!
The receiving shield was glowing a trifle! Gamma rays were bombarding it! It glowed, gleamed phosphorescent, and the audible recorder began sounding its tiny tinkling murmurs.
Gamma rays! Snap sprang to the dials. The direction and strength were soon obvious. A richly radio-active ore body, of considerable size, was concentrated upon this hemisphere of the moon! It was unmistakable.
Hes got it, Gregg! Hes
The tiny helio mirrors began quivering. Snap exclaimed triumphantly, Here he comes! By God, the message at last! Bar off that light!
I flung on the absorbers. The moonlight bathing the little room went into them and darkness sprang around us. Snap fumbled at his instrument board. Actinic light showed dimly in the quivering, thumbnail mirrors. Two of them. They hung poised on their cobweb wires, infinitely sensitive to the infra-red light-rays Grantline was sending from the moon. The mirrors in a moment began swinging. On the scale across the room the actinic beams from them were magnified into sweeps of light.
The message!
Snap spelled it out, decoded it.
Success! Stop for ore on your return voyage. Will give you our location later. Success beyond wildest hopes
The mirrors hung motionless. The shield, where the Gamma rays were bombarding, went suddenly dark.
Snap murmured, Thats all. Hes got the ore! Success beyond wildest hopes. That must mean an enormous quantity of it available!
We were sitting in darkness, and abruptly I became aware that across our open window, where the insulation barrage was flung, the air was faintly hissing. An interference there! I saw a tiny swirl of purple sparks. Someonesome hostile ray from the deck beneath us, or from the spider bridge that led to our little roomsomeone out there trying to pry in!
Snap impulsively reached for the absorbers to let in the outside lightit was all darkness to us outside. But I checked him.
Wait! I cut off our barrage, opened our door and stepped to the narrow metal bridge.
Wait, Snap! You stay there. I added aloud, Well, Snap, Im going to bed. Glad youve cleaned up that batch of work.
I banged the door upon him. The lacework of metal bridges and ladders seemed empty. I gazed up to the dome, and forward and aft. Twenty feet beneath me was the metal roof of the cabin superstructure. Below it, both sides of the deck showed. All patched with moonlight.
No one visible down there. I descended a ladder. The deck was empty. But in the silence something was moving! Footsteps moving away from me down the deck! I followed; and suddenly I was running. Chasing something I could hear, but could not see. It turned into the smoking room.
I burst in. And a real sound smothered the phantom. Johnson the purser was sitting here alone in the dimness. He was smoking. I noticed that his cigar held a long, frail ash. It could not have been him I was chasing. He was sitting there quite calmly. A thick-necked, heavy fellow, easily out of breath. But he was breathing calmly now.
He sat up with amazement at my wild-eyed appearance, and the ash jarred from his cigar.
Gregg! What in the devil
I tried to grin. Im on my way to bedworked all night helping Snap with those damn Earth messages.
I went past him, out the door into the main interior corridor. It was the only way the invisible prowler could have gone. But I was too late nowI could hear nothing. I dashed forward into the main lounge. It was empty, dim and silent, a silence broken presently by a faint clicka stateroom door hastily closing. I swung and found myself in a tiny transverse passage. The twin doors of A 22 and A 20 were before me.
The invisible eavesdropper had gone into one of these rooms! I listened at each of the panels, but there was only silence within.
The interior of the ship was suddenly singing with the stewards sirenthe call to awaken the passengers. It startled me. I moved swiftly away. But as the siren shut off, in the silence I heard a soft, musical voice:
Wake up, AnitaI think thats the breakfast call.
And her answer: All right, George. I hear it.
CHAPTER IV
A Burn on a Martian ArmI 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 Gamma rays from the moon, proving that Grantline had concentrated a considerable ore-body. I also told him the message from Grantline.
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 Gamma rays from the moon, proving that Grantline had concentrated a considerable ore-body. I also told him the message from Grantline.
Well stop on the way back, as he directs, Gregg. He bent closer to me. At Ferrok-Shahn Im going to bring back a cordon of Interplanetary Police. The secret will be out, of course, when once 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 Grantlines message?
I dont know, I said.
Who was it? You seem to feel it was George Prince?
Yes.
I was convinced that the prowler had gone into A 20. 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.
Is he? Does he know anything about this Grantline affair?
Nono, said the captain hastily. You havent mentioned it, have you?
Of course I havent. Ive been wondering why Johnson didnt hear that eavesdropper. I could hear him when I was chasing him. But Johnson sat perfectly unmoved and let him go by. What was he sitting there for, anyway, at that hour of the morning?
Youre too suspicious, Gregg. Overwrought. But youre rightwe cant be too careful. Im going to have that Prince suite searched when I catch it unoccupied. Passengers dont ordinarily travel with invisible cloaks. Go to bed, Greggyou need a rest.
I went to my cabin. It was located aft, on the stern deck-space, near the stern watch-tower. A small metal room, with a desk, a chair and 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 mid-day meal awakened me. I had slept heavily. I felt refreshed. And hungry.
I found the passengers already assembled at my table when I arrived in the dining salon. It was a low-vaulted metal room of blue and yellow tube-lights. At the sides its oval windows showed the deck, with its ports of 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, this voyage. A flight, under ordinary circumstances, 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 three passengers on each of the sides.
Snap was in his seat when I arrived. He eyed me down the length of the table.
Good morning, Gregg. We missed you at breakfast. Not pressure-sick, I hope?
There were three passengers already seated at our tableall men. Snap, in a gay mood, introduced me.
This is our third officer, Gregg Haljan. Big, handsome fellow, isnt he? And as pleasant as he is good-looking. Gregg, this is Sero Ob Hahn.
I met the keen, dark-eyed 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 sleek.
Ob Hahn, I repeated. I should have heard of you, no doubt. But
A smile plucked at his thin, gray lips. That is the error of mine, not yours. My mission is that all the universe shall hear of me.
Hes preaching the religion of the Venus Mystics, Snap explained.
And this enlightened gentleman, said Ob Hahn ironically, has just termed it fetishism. The ignorance
Oh, I say! protested the man at Ob Hahns side. I mean, you seem to think I intended something opprobrious. As a matter of fact
Weve an argument, Gregg, laughed Snap. This is Sir Arthur Coniston, an English gentleman, lecturer and sky-trotterthat 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 acknowledgment. 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 Americana quiet, blond fellow of thirty-five or forty.
I ordered my breakfast and let the argument go on.
Wont make me miserable, said Snap. I love an argument. You said, Sir Arthur?..
I mean to say, I think I said too much. Mr. Rankin, you are more diplomatic.
Rankin laughed. I am a magician, he said to me. A theatrical entertainer. I deal in trickshow to fool an audience His keen, amused gaze was on Ob Hahn. This gentleman from Venus and I have too much in common to argue.
A nasty one! the Englishman exclaimed. By Jove! Really, Mr. Rankin, youre a bit too cruel!
I could see we were doomed to have turbulent meals this voyage. I like to eat in quiet; arguing passengers always annoy me. There were still three seats vacant at our table; I wondered who would occupy them. I soon learned the answerfor one seat at least. Rankin said calmly:
Where is the little Venus girl this meal? His glance went to the empty seat at my right hand. The Venzawasnt that her name? She and I are destined for the same theater in Ferrok-Shahn.
So Venza was to sit beside me. It was good news. Ten days of a religious argument three times a day would be intolerable. But the cheerful Venza would help.
She never eats the mid-day meal, said Snap. Shes on the deck, having orange juice. I guess its the old gag about diet, eh?
My attention wandered about the salon. Most of the seats were occupied. At the captains table I saw the objects of my search. George Prince and his sister sat one on each side of the captain. I saw George Prince in the life now as a man who looked hardly twenty-five. He was at this moment evidently in a gay mood. His clean-cut, handsome profile, with its poetic dark curls, was turned toward me. There seemed little of the villain about him.
And I saw Anita Prince now as a dark-haired, black eyed little beauty, in feature resembling her brother very strongly. She presently finished her meal. She rose, with him after her. She was dressed in Earth fashionwhite blouse and dark jacket, wide, knee-length trousers of gray, with a red sash her only touch of color. She went past me, flashed me her smile and nod.
My heart was pounding. I answered her greeting, and met George Princes casual gaze. He, too, smiled, as though to signify that his sister had told him of the service I had done her. Or was his smile an ironical memory of how he had eluded me this morning when I chased him?
I gazed after his small, white-suited figure as he followed Anita from the salon. And thinking of her, I prayed that Carter and Halsey might be wrong. Whatever plotting against the Grantline Expedition might be going on, I hoped that George Prince was innocent of it. Yet I knew in my heart it was a futile hope. Prince had been that eavesdropper outside the helio-room. I could not really doubt it. But that his sister must be ignorant of what he was doing, I was sure.