ve.

"You!" Then he smiled, a peculiarly horrible smile. "You are cleverer
than I thought, my Earth friend. You should have been strangled to
death on the _Althea_, or made into one of--"

He stopped short, and the smile widened cruelly. "But it is not too
late. No, it is not too late."

Grant disregarded his cryptic phrases. He smiled, too, a contemptuous
smile that cut like a lash.

"You, Miro, an Inspector of the Service, are only a lying,
treacherous, butchering Ganymedan. Filthy scum of the Universe."

Miro started forward with a roar, a dark flush of rage suffusing his
green-tinged countenance. His blunt-edged finger trembled on the
button of the pencil-ray. Grant knew he was perilously on the verge
of sudden death, yet his scornful glance did not waver.

It was Nona, hitherto unnoticed, her helmet removed, who darted upon
the giant Ganymedan with small beating fists. Miro saw her coming and
swung her sprawling away with one sweep of his free hand, while he
covered Grant with the other.

He had recovered his composure. Some secret merriment seemed to
convulse him.

"Ho! ho!" he shouted. "Who is this little spitfire? By Jupiter, she is
a tempting morsel." And his red eyes took in the flushed beauty of the
panting girl speculatively.

Grant tensed for a quick spring.

"Stand where you are," Miro barked. "One move and it will be your
last." Gone was the smooth unctuous speech of former times. His tone
now was cutting, deadly.

* * * * *

"You damned Earthmen have been crowing long enough," he said. "When Miro
and Ganymede get through with you, the very memory of your filthy planet
will have been erased from the solar system." His voice rose higher.
"You thought you had us beaten down with your space-battleships and your
embargoes on metals. And we were meekly repentant. Oh yes, we were! We
took you in nicely. Why, they even made me, Miro, Inspector of your
rotten Service.

"But we have been preparing against the day for years. Here on this
island that we built we worked, hidden from interference. We are ready
now. Our fleets will sail out, in your own ships, to smash the
combined space navies of the solar system."

In spite of himself Grant could not hide a sudden grin of relief. The
man was mad, to think of pitting a few liners against armored battle
craft. Miro saw that grin.

"You think I'm mad, don't you?" he gloated. "Just listen to this,
then. We have found a