vanished girl. The man who had killed Clakey had been at least a link, a link that, short of Corriston s total defeat, might have been seized upon with physical violence and made to yield up its secret.
Now Corriston found himself wondering if the defeated man had been telling the truth. Had the link been nonexistent from the first? Was the killer as completely in the dark as he was as to the whereabouts of Ramsey’s daughter?
It was difficult to believe that the man had been lying. Despite his hatred and denials he had offered Corriston a deal: “
What had been the man’s purpose in killing Clakey? Why had Clakey been murdered in the general passenger cabin, in plain view of the other passengers? Because the killer had seen the girl go into the lounge and thought she was still there? And because he wanted free and instant access to her, with Clakey out of the way? It was the only answer that made sense.
The killer must have known that Clakey was in Ramsey’s employ and had been guarding Ramsey’s daughter. Why then had he been unable to take advantage of his crime in any way? Apparently neither he nor a possible confederate had succeeded in what almost certainly had been a pattern of violence directed at Ramsey through his daughter — a plan obviously worked out in advance, ready to be put into operation the instant a promising opportunity presented itself.
Into Corriston’s mind flashed an ugly picture of the girl pinioned by strong arms and with a handkerchief pressed to her face. She had ceased to struggle and was being spirited quickly away. The picture became even more intolerable when he saw her held captive in a cabin difficult to locate, at the mercy of men without compassion.
But for some reason he’d never cease to be thankful for, it hadn’t happened that way. Something had gone wrong with the plan, and the killer didn’t even know when and why and how she had vanished. Sharing Corriston’s frustration, he had been struggling simply to save himself, to keep Corriston from identifying and exposing him. The fury he’d displayed was not difficult to understand.
Corriston found himself becoming more confident again, less dominated by despair. The change in his mood surprised him but he seized upon it gratefully and started building on it. There was only one logical next move. He must find the captain quickly and enlist his help. He must take the master of the ship fully into his confidence. With every gift of persuasion at his command, he must make the captain see how the danger of Ramsey’s daughter was mounting and would continue to mount with every minute that she remained unfound.
He still felt dizzy, and his head was aching a little, but he moved quickly through the darkness, his faculties heightened by an intensity of purpose which enabled him to find the companionway without colliding with obstacles or taking a wrong turn. Up the stairway he climbed, still clutching the knife, prepared for a possible second encounter with its original owner.
An attempt to regain the knife by trickery and stealth would not have surprised him. In fact, it was not at all difficult for him to picture a silent form flattened against the stair-rail, waiting for just the right moment to come hurtling toward him out of the darkness. For a moment, as he ascended, the strain became almost unendurable. Then the darkness dissolved above him, and he was advancing toward the captain’s cabin through the narrow passageway which he had spanned with his arms spread wide.
He did not stop to span it this time. He emerged into the cabin and stood for an instant blinking in the sudden light. The cabin was still deserted. It was anybody’s guess where the captain had gone or when he would be returning, and Corriston decided not to wait. He walked to the door, opened it and stepped out into the general passenger cabin.
No one saw him immediately. There were several passengers fairly close to him, but they were being attentive for the moment to the words and gestures of a tall, dignified looking man with observant brown eyes, a ruddy complexion, and gold braid on his shoulders. The tall man was Captain John Sanders.
“I’d be a hypocrite and a liar if I said there was no justification for alarm”, Sanders was saying, in a voice loud enough to carry to where Corriston was standing. “Strict regulations prescribe that sort of thing. But it’s no way for a captain to keep the respect of his passengers”. Corriston felt himself stepping forward before he even thought about it. But he halted abruptly when the captain said: “There’s a murderer on the loose aboard this ship. You may as well accept that fact right now. Each of you has to be on his guard. It’s only right and proper that you should keep your eyes and ears open, and stay worried. If you do, our chances of catching up with him before the ship berths should be reasonably good”.
The captain paused, then went on quickly: “We’ll get him eventually. You can be sure of that. He’ll never get past the inspection each of you will have to undergo when we reach the Station. But if we catch him before we reach the Station, you’ll be spared an investigative ordeal distinctly on the rugged side”.
Corriston was suddenly aware that he was being stared at. Everyone was staring at him.
“My God!” the Captain cried out, staring the hardest of all. “Where did you get that wound? Who attacked you? And what were you doing in my cabin?”.
Corriston walked up to the Captain and said in a voice that trembled a little. “May I talk to you privately, sir? What I have to say won’t take long”.
“Why not?” Sanders demanded. “That uniform you’re wearing makes it mandatory. All right, come back into my cabin”.
They went back into the cabin. The captain shut the door and turned to face Corriston with a shocked concern in his stare.
“You’ve had it rough, Lieutenant. I can see that”. “Plenty rough”, Corriston conceded. “But it’s not myself I m worried about“.
“Did you know that a man has just been murdered?”.
“I know”, Corriston said.
“With a poisoned barb. A Martian barb. It’s a plant found only on Mars. We have him stretched out on a table in the sick bay now. But he isn’t sick; he’s a corpse. Tell me something, Lieutenant, did you just tangle with the man who did it?”.
“I think so”, Corriston said. “In fact, I’d stake my commission on it”.
“I see. Well, you’d better tell me about it. Tell me everything”.
Corriston told him.
The captain was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “But we’ve no Miss Ramsey on the passenger list. And I certainly didn’t invite her to drink a toast with me in my cabin. Are you sure of your facts, Lieutenant?” Corriston’s jaw fell open. He stared at the captain in stunned disbelief. “Of course I’m sure. Why should I lie to you?”.
“How should I know. It’s unfair to ask me that. If Ramsey’s daughter was on this ship, you can rest assured I’d have known about it. After all, Lieutenant” —
“But she was on board and you didn’t know. Isn’t that obvious? Look, she was traveling incognito. The trip to the Station takes only five hours. Perhaps in so short a trip” — “No ‘perhaps’ about it. I’d have known”.
“But she is on board, I tell you. I talked to her. I talked to Clakey. Don’t make me go over the whole thing again. We’ve got to find her. Ramsey’s ememies would stop at nothing. I’m afraid to think of what they might do to his daughter!”
“Nothing will happen to his daughter. She’s on Earth right this minute in her father’s house, as safe as any girl that wealthy can ever be. Lieutenant, listen to me. I’ve got a great deal of respect for that uniform you’re wearing. Don’t make me lose it. When you come to me with a story like that” —
“All right. You don’t believe me. Will you check the passenger list, just to be sure?”.
“I’ll do more than that, Lieutenant. I’ll assemble all of the passengers and check them off personally. I’ll give you an opportunity to look them over while I’m doing it. Later you can ask them as many questions as you wish. There’ll be a murderer among them, but that shouldn’t disturb you too much. You’ve already met. Perhaps you can identify him for us. Ask each of the men who made a non-existent Miss Ramsey disappear and the one who turns pale will be our man”.
Suddenly the captain reddened. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I didn’t mean to be sarcastic. But a murder on my ship naturally upsets me. I’ll be completely frank with you. There’s a very remote possibility that Miss Ramsey actually is on board without my knowledge. She hasn’t had much publicity. I believe I’ve only seen one photograph of her,
