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I asked him a number of questions which I felt would help us to start our work properly, and he answered every one of them promptly and fully. Evidently, Fetter had given his problem a great deal of thought, and had done more than a little intelligent investigating of his own.

“If there’s anything else I can do to help you,” he said as he accompanied us to the door, “don’t fail to call upon me. And remember what I said: trust no one except yourselves. Study each move before you make it. These Lakonians are dull-witted, but they’ll do whatever Liane tells them. And she thinks fast and cunningly!”

* * * * *

We thanked him for his warning, and hurried back to the ship through the sickly-green Lakonian dusk. The acrid odor of the atmosphere was already beginning to be disagreeable.

“Decent sort of a chap, Fetter,” commented Correy. “All wrought up, isn’t he? Worried stiff.”

“I imagine he has cause to be. And–he might have been right in saying we should have held Liane: perhaps we could have treated with her in some way.”

“No chance! Not that lady. When we treat with her, we’ll have to have the whip hand, utterly and completely.”

The heavy outer door of the Ertak’s exit was open, but the transparent inner door, provided for just such an emergency, was in place, forming, in conjunction with a second door, an efficient air-lock. The guard saw us coming and, as we came up, had the inner door smartly opened, standing at salute as we entered. We returned his salute and went up to the navigating room, where I proposed to hold a brief council of war, informing Kincaide and Hendricks of what we had learned from Fetter, and deciding upon a course of action for the following day. Kincaide, whom I had left on watch, was there waiting.

“Well, sir, how do things stack up?” he asked anxiously.

“Not so good. Please ask Mr. Hendricks to report here at once, and I’ll give you the whole story.”

Kincaide pressed the attention signal to Hendricks’ room, and waited impatiently for a response. There was none.

“Try my room,” suggested Correy. “Maybe he hasn’t moved back to his own quarters yet.”

“That’s what he said he would be doing,” replied Kincaide. But that signal too failed to bring any response.

* * * * *

Correy glanced at me, a queer, hurt expression in his eyes.

“Shall I go forward and see if he–if he’s ill?” he asked quickly.

“Please do,” I said, and as soon as he was gone I turned to the microphone and called the sentry on duty at the exit.

“Commander Hanson speaking. Has Mr. Hendricks left the ship?”‘

“Yes, sir. Some time ago. The lady came back, saying she had word from you; she and Mr. Hendricks left a few minutes later. That was all right, sir?”

“Yes,” I said, barely able to force the word from between my lips. Hendricks … and Liane? Hendricks … a traitor? I cut the microphone and glanced at Kincaide. He must have read the facts in my eyes.

“He’s … gone, sir?”

“With Liane,” I nodded.

The door burst open, and Correy came racing into the room.

“He’s not there, sir!” he snapped. “But in his room I found this!”

He held out an envelope, addressed to me. I ripped it open, glanced through the hasty, nervous scrawl, and then read it aloud:

“Sir:

I am leaving with Liane. I am sorry. It had to be.

Hendricks.”

“That, gentlemen,” I said hoarsely, after a long silence, “will make the blackest entry ever spread upon the log of the Ertak–upon any ship of the Service. Let us dismiss this thing from our minds, and proceed.”