men will have to share berths. Of course, there's plenty of room in
the lounge. As for the staff, Captain Ross, who is to look after you, is
a man of considerable--"

The Vice President rambled on. Curtis Delman ceased listening to him; it
was only because he had heard his name mentioned that his interest had
been drawn in the first place. He focused his attention on the three
remaining passengers.

They were a strangely assorted trio. Of the two men, one was
extravagantly attired in dark-blue silk, obviously hand-woven, with
large sapphire rings on the fingers of both hands, and a slim,
eight-dial chronometer on the left wrist. Despite his advanced age, his
face remained lean and swarthy, the eyes set close above a strong hooked
nose, the lips taut and cruel.

He'd been introduced as Jason Tarsh. The lawyer seemed to associate the
name with a criminal case--something to do with smuggling--but the
details eluded him.

The other was ordinary and ill at ease, a plump, red-faced man in a
badly cut tweed tunic who looked out of place in the present company.
His knuckles rapped nervously on the elbow-rest of his chair. Clearly,
Mr. John Bridge had none of that confidence usually acquired by the
millionaire. Yet only a wealthy man could afford the trip. Curtis Delman
was puzzled.

And then there was the woman.

* * * * *

It was difficult to believe that the third and last of his
fellow-passengers was Gillian Murray. She sat by herself in the far
corner, a formless, shrunken creature in deep black. He remembered
seeing her, eighty years ago, on the stage of the Palladia. She had been
shapely and vivacious in those days. Now only a faint sparkle lingered
in her eyes. There was nothing to suggest that she had once been the
toast of the Universe. Old, withered, gray-haired--time treated beauty
harshly, mercilessly. He realized how much this trip must mean to her.

"Unlike Jupiter," the Vice President was saying, "this section of the
Galaxy is composed of oxygen planets. In fact, the proportion of oxygen
is rather higher than on Earth, so you needn't bother about spacesuits
and the like. I remember--"

A green light blinked on the Vice President's desk, stemming the flood
of reminiscence. It was the embarkation signal.

The Vice President rose. "It only remains," he said, "to wish you all a
very happy and successful journey."

The handshaking over, the five passengers filed out onto t