ical engagement. She'd made quite
a hit on the Great White Way.

She came up the incline with the carrier ahead of her. Gazing up, she
saw Dr. Frank and me at the turret window, smiled and waved her white
arm in greeting.

Dr. Frank laughed. "By the gods of the airways, there's Alta Venza!
You saw that look, Gregg? That was for me, not you."

"Reasonable enough," I retorted. "But I doubt it--the Venza is nothing
if not impartial."

I wondered what could be taking Venza now to Mars. I was glad to see
her. She was diverting. Educated. Well traveled. Spoke English with a
colloquial, theatrical manner more characteristic of Greater New York
than of Venus. And for all her light banter, I would rather put my
trust in her than any Venus girl I had ever met.

The hum of the departing siren was sounding. Friends and relatives of
the passengers were crowding the exit incline. The deck was clearing.
I had not seen George Prince come aboard. And then I thought I saw him
down on the landing stage, just arrived from a private tube car. A
small, slight figure. The customs men were around him. I could only
see his head and shoulders. Pale, girlishly handsome face; long, black
hair to the base of his neck. He was bare-headed, with the hood of his
traveling cloak pushed back.

I stared, and I saw that Dr. Frank was also gazing down. But neither
of us spoke.

Then I said upon impulse, "Suppose we go down to the deck, Doctor?"

He acquiesced. We descended to the lower room of the turret and
clambered down the spider ladder to the upper deck level. The head of
the arriving incline was near us. Preceded by two carriers who were
littered with hand luggage, George Prince was coming up the incline.
He was closer now. I recognized him from the type we had seen in
Halsey's office.

And then, with a shock, I saw it was not so. This was a girl coming
aboard. An arc light over the incline showed her clearly when she was
half way up. A girl with her hood pushed back; her face framed in
thick black hair. I saw now it was not a man's cut of hair; but long
braids coiled up under the dangling hood.

Dr. Frank must have remarked my amazed expression. "Little beauty,
isn't she?"

"Who is she?"

We were standing back against the wall of the superstructure. A
passenger was near us--the Martian whom Dr. Frank had called Miko. He
was loitering here, quite evidently watching this girl come aboard.
But as I glanced at him, he looked away and cas