but we caught him. He really
had a lame ankle, you know."

The mice of apprehension scampered up and down Mr. Wordsley's spine.
"You killed him." It was a statement of certainty.

"No, indeed. That would have been too easy. We left him there with one
portable water-maker and all of that unpalatable but nourishing fungus
which thrives upon Avis Solis that he could eat. I have no doubt that he
lived until madness reduced his ability to feed himself."

"That was drastic," Mr. Wordsley felt called upon to say.
"Perhaps--perhaps it occurred to you later on that, in charity to your
brother, the er--woman might not have been altogether blameless."

For a moment he thought that Captain DeCastros was about to strike him
again. He did not. Instead he spat at Mr. Wordsley. He had the speed of
a cobra. There was not time to get out of the way. Mr. Wordsley employed
a handkerchief on his face.

"She was my wife, you know, Mr. Wordsley," Captain DeCastros said
pleasantly.

At nineteen-over-four the contamination buzzers sounded their dread
warning.

* * * * *

Mr. Wordsley got the alarm first. He had been furtively repairing the
viewscreen and thinking dark thoughts the while. There was sick dread
for him in the contemplation of the future, for after this last
unfortunate blunder DeCastros would be certain to keep his promise and
have him examined. This might very well be his last voyage, and Mr.
Wordsley had known for quite a long time that he could not live anywhere
except out here in the void.

Only in space, where the stars were like diamonds. Not in the light of
swirling, angry, red suns, not upon the surface of any planet, so drab
when you drew too near. Only in the sterile purity of remote space
where he could maintain and nourish the essential purity of his
day-dreams. But of course one could not explain this to the Board of
Examiners; least of all to Captain DeCastros.

Moreover, he was afraid that Avis Solis, which he had been permitted to
behold for only a few seconds, would be out of range before he got the
scanner to working again. The aspect of this magnificent gem diminishing
forever into the limitless night brought a lump to his throat.

But then, at last, the screen came alive once more, and there it loomed,
more brilliant than ever, now so huge that it filled the screen, and it
had not become drab, neither gray-green or brown. No, it was cake
frosting, and icicles, and ra