new it would go this far! He had to! What's to be gained?
Particularly when he'd have to go through all this, too! He must have
been crazy!"

"Bullard couldn't have done it," I said slowly.

"Why should it be Bullard? How do we know he was insane? Maybe when he
was shouting that he wouldn't tell, he was trying to make a bribe to
save his own life. Maybe he's as scared as we are. Maybe he was making
sense all along, if we'd only listened to him. He--"

She stood up and started back toward the lockers, but I caught her
hand. "Eve, he wouldn't have done it--the killer--if he'd had to go
through the lottery! He knew he was safe! That's the one thing we've
been overlooking. The man to suspect is the only man who could be sure
he would get back! My God, we saw him juggle those straws to save
Jenny! He knew he'd control the lottery."

She frowned. "But ... Paul, he practically suggested the lottery!
Grundy brought it up, but he was all ready for it." The frown
vanished, then returned. "But I still can't believe it."

"He's the one who wanted to go back all the time. He kept insisting on
it, but he had to get back without violating his contract." I grabbed
her hand and started toward the nose of the ship, justifying it to her
as I went. "The only man with a known motive for returning, the only
one completely safe--and we didn't even think of it!"

She was still frowning, but I wasn't wasting time. We came up the
corridor to the control room. Ahead the door was slightly open, and I
could hear a mutter of Jenny's voice. Then there was the tired rumble
of Muller.

"I'll find a way, baby. I don't care how close they watch, we'll make
it work. Pick the straw with the crimp in the end--I can do that, even
if I can't push one out further again. I tell you, nothing's going to
happen to you."

"But Bill--" she began.

I hit the door, slamming it open. Muller sat on a narrow couch with
Jenny on his lap. I took off for him, not wasting a good chance when
he was handicapped. But I hadn't counted on Jenny. She was up, and
her head banged into my stomach before I knew she was coming. I felt
the wind knocked out, but I got her out of my way--to look up into the
muzzle of a gun in Muller's hands.

"You'll explain this, Mr. Tremaine," he said coldly. "In ten seconds,
I'll have an explanation or a corpse."

"Go ahead," I told him. "Shoot, damn you! You'll get away with this,
too, I suppose. Mutiny, or something. And down in that ro