ed with
the success of his masquerade, useless though it was. He was a typical
Martian, dark, sleek-haired, coral-skinned.

"I hate to send a man to his death mystified," said the Martian after
a moment, "so I'll explain that I am Scar Balta!"

"Scar Balta!"

"You've heard of me?"

"Uh--yes and no," Sime suddenly remembered the girl of the evening
before--the imperious little Martian. She had warned him of Scar
Balta.

"If I do say it," said the Martian, "I am the best impersonator in the
service of the interests I represent. I did not expect to get
information of great value from you, but we do not neglect even the
most unpromising leads."

He pressed a button; two Martian soldiers answered promptly.

"Take this man to the cell," Balta ordered. "Provide him with writing
materials so that he can write a last message to his family. In the
morning take him to the end of the ravine and finish him with your
short sword."

"Yes, Colonel!"

"The fellow's a colonel, anyway," Sime thought as they led him away.

They led him downward, along a straight corridor that evidently went
far beyond the boundaries of the ravine fortress. In places the walls,
adequately lit by the glow-wands the guards carried, were plainly cut
out of the solid rock; in others they were masonry, as though the
channel were passing through pockets of earth; or--the thought
electrified him--through faults or natural caverns.

At last they came to the end. One of the guards unlocked a metal door,
motioned his prisoner into the prison cell. A light-wand, badly run
down and feeble, with only a few active cells left, gave the only
light. As the door slammed behind him, Sime took in the depressing
scene.

* * * * *

The stone walls were mildewed, leprous. The only ventilation was
through small holes in the door. Chains, fastened to huge staples in
the uneven stone floor, with smooth metal wrist and ankle cuffs, were
spaced at regular intervals, and musty piles of canal rushes showed
where some forgotten prisoner had dragged out his melancholy last
days. Sime was glad they had not chained him down. Probably didn't
consider it necessary unless there were many prisoners, who might rush
the guards.

"Ho, there, sojer!"

The voice was startling, so hearty and natural in this sad place. Sime
saw something coming out of a far corner. It was a man in the blouse
and trousers of civilian wear; a bald and good-natured man