vade his body and in the space of a few hours reduce him
to a black, repulsive parody of humanity. But the sheets were
unsullied.

Then his gaze fell on the mist-bath. Travelers who have visited Mars
are, of course, familiar with this simple device, used to overcome to
some extent the exceeding dryness of the red planet's atmosphere.
Resembling the steam bath of the ancients, there was just enough room
in the cylindrical case for a man to sit inside while his skin was
sprayed with vivifying moisture. But his head would project, and there
was no head visible.

Nevertheless, so strong was Sime's intuition, he leveled his
neuro-pistol at the cabinet and approached. With a sweep of his
muscular arm he swung it open--and gasped!

* * * * *

The sight that greeted him was enough to make any man gasp, even one
less young and impressionable than Sime. In all of his twenty-five
years he had not seen a woman so lovely. Her complexion was the
delicate coral pink of the Martian colonials--descendants of the
original human settlers who had struggled with, and at last bent to
their will, this harsh and inhospitable planet. She was little over
five feet tall, although the average Martian is perhaps slightly
bigger than his terrestrial cousin. Her hair was dark, like that of
most Martians, drawn back from her forehead and fastened at the nape
of her neck, from there to fall in an abundant, rippling cascade down
her slim, straight back. Her figure was like those delicate and
ancient creations of Dresden china to be seen in museums, but
elastic, and full of strength. She was dressed in the two-piece
garment universally worn by both sexes on Mars--a garment, so
historians say, that was called "pyjamas" by our forebears.

And she was defiant. In her hand was a stiletto with long, slim blade.
Sime made a darting grasp for her wrist and wrung the weapon from her.
It fell to the metal floor with a tinkling clatter.

"And now tell me, young lady, what's the meaning of this?"

Suddenly she smiled.

"I came to warn you, Sime Hemingway." She spoke softly and sweetly,
and with effortless dignity.

"You came to warn me?"

"You are in grave danger. Your mission here is known, and powerful
enemies are preparing to destroy you."

"You talk like you knew something, kid," Sime admitted. "What is my
mission here?"

"You have been sent to Mars by the I. F. P. in the guise of a mining
engineer. You are to dis