s really there at all. The companionway was
empty. No tiger. No animal of any kind--"

The Examiner, holding up a hand of protest, looked like a man
directing traffic. "Please, Mr. Holloway--please. We must remember
regulations."

Holloway's eyes closed for a moment but he resolutely forced them open
as though afraid of something.

The scene was Holloway's two-room suite in the Space Port Hotel. There
were three men present--Holloway, skipper of the _Space King_, John
Mason, Port Resident, and Merle Kennedy, Section Examiner for the
Space Authority people. Kennedy regarded Holloway with frank concern.
Good heavens--the man was a complete mess. Looked ready to collapse.
Kennedy turned to Mason. "This can be postponed, you know."

Mason was regarding Holloway also. Strange, he thought; Holloway had
left in a fanfare of publicity. Now it appeared his return would be
even more dramatic. Maybe Holloway was that kind of a chap; the kind
things just happened to.

He was quite young though he certainly didn't look it now. He'd been
known as a playboy ever since his father struck it big in Venusian
oil. But good-looking, personable, he had worn the label well. He'd
been good copy because the public regarded him with patronizing
affection. To them, he'd been a nice kid having fun; not a young
wastrel wasting his father's money.

Naturally he would pick a glamour girl to play the romantic feminine
role and Melody Hayden had filled the bill perfectly. Together, they
had enchanted the public. Princess and Prince Charming stuff. Then
tragedy. Disaster in a rocketing sports car; Melody's coffin sealed
before the funeral; young Holloway coming off without a scratch.
Melody's death was a bombshell and everyone asked. _What will he do
now?_ expecting of course, something sensational.

He didn't let them down. Dramatically, he announced a completely new
life. He bought a space ship and foreswore his old ways. He had quite
a reputation as a big game hunter. He'd stalked the vicious Plutonian
ice bears and lain in Venusian swamps waiting for the ten-ton lizards
to rise out of the slime. He had knocked over the wiliest of animals,
a telepathic Uranian mountain wolf and had dropped in flight a Martian
radar-bat, a feat duplicated by only three other marksmen of record.

So what more natural occupation than guiding hunting parties in deep
space? Holloway had been obviously torn by Melody's tragic death.
Perhaps out among the stars he