time ago stole a
particular property of Bellaver Incorporated. You're not involved in the
quarrel, Mr. Hyrst. I'd advise you, as a friend, to stay not involved."

Hyrst's mind and his ears were stretched and quivering, straining to
hear a cry for help just a little too far away.

"What kind of a property?" asked Hyrst.

Vernon shrugged. "The Bellavers have never said what kind, for fairly
obvious reasons."

"Something to do with ships?"

"I suppose so. It isn't important to me. Nor to you, Mr. Hyrst."

"Will you pour me a drink?" said Hyrst, pointing to the cellaret close
beside Vernon. "Yes, that's fine. How long ago?"

"What?" asked Vernon, measuring whisky into a glass.

"The theft," said Hyrst, and threw his mind suddenly against the
barrier. For one fleeting second he forced a crack in it. "Something
over fifty--", said Vernon, and let the glass fall. He spun around from
the cellaret and was halfway to his feet when Hyrst hit him. He hit him
three or four times before he would stay down, and three or four more
before he would lie quiet. Hyrst straightened up, breathing hard. His
lip was bleeding and he wiped it with the back of his hand. "That was a
little too big a job for _you_, Mr. Vernon," he said viciously. "Trying
to keep my mind blanked and under control for hours." He stuffed a
handkerchief into Vernon's mouth, and tied him up with his own
cummerbund, and shoved him out of sight behind an enormous bed. Then he
opened the door carefully, and went out.

* * * * *

There was nobody in the corridor. This was wide and ornate, with doors
opening off it, and nothing to show what was behind them or which way to
go. Hyrst stood still a minute, getting control of himself. The barrier
no longer obscured his mind. He let it rove, finding that every time he
did that it was easier, and the images clearer. He heard Shearing again,
as he had heard him in that one second when Vernon's guard had faltered.
His face became set and ugly. He began to move toward the stern of the
_Happy Dream_.

Heavy metal-cloth curtains closed this end of the corridor. Beyond them
was a ballroom in which only one dim light now burned, a vastness of
black polished floors and crystal windows looking upon space. Hyrst's
footsteps were hushed and swallowed up in whispering echoes. He made his
way across to another set of curtains, edged between them with infinite
caution, and found himself in the upper a