"I'd like to thank her," Don said sincerely. "Did you say lab'?"

"Eh? Yes, yes-quite a place. You'll see it later. Some of the best talent on Venus here. The Federation's loss is our gain."

The questions that immediately popped into Don's mind were held up; someone, something was coming in. Don's eyes widened when he saw that it was a Martian's "pram"-the self-propelled personal environment without which a Martian cannot live either on Earth or Venus. The little car wheeled in and joined the circle; the figure inside raised itself to a sitting position with the aid of its powered artificial exoskeleton, tried feebly to spread its pseudowings and spoke, its thin, tired voice amplified through a speaking system. "Malath da Thon greets you, my friends."

Phipps stood up. "Malath old boy, you should be back in your tank. You'll kill yourself exerting like this."

"I shall live as long as is necessary."

"Here's the Harvey kid. Looks like his old man, doesn't he?"

Sir Isaac, shocked by such casualness, intervened with a formal introduction. Don tried feverishly to recall more than two words of High Martian, gave up and let it go with, "I'm glad to know you, sir."

"The honor is mine," answered the tired voice. " `A tall father casts a long shadow.' "

Don wondered what to answer while reflecting that the rowdy lack of manners of the move-overs had its points. Phipps broke in with, "Well, let's get down to business before Malath wears himself out. Sir Isaac?"

"Very well. Donald, you know that you are welcome in my house."

"Uh-why, yes, Sir Isaac, thank you."

"You know that I urged you to visit me before I knew aught of you but your parentage and your own good spirit."

"Yes, sir, you asked me to look you up. And I tried to, I really did-but I didn't know where you had landed. I was just getting organized to do a little detective work on it when the Greenies landed. I'm sorry." Don felt vaguely uncomfortable, knowing that he had put the matter off until he had a favor to ask.

"And I tried to find you, Donald-and was caught by the same mischance. Most recently, by rumors that are carried on the mist, did I discover where you were and what you were doing." Sir Isaac paused as if he found the choice of words difficult. "Knowing that this house is yours, knowing that you were welcome in any case, can you forgive me when you discover you were summoned also for a most

practical reason?"

Don decided that this called for "true speech." " `How can the eyes offend the tail? Or father offend son?' What can I do to help, Sir Isaac? I had already gathered that something was up."

"How shall I begin? Should I speak of your Cyrus Buchanan who died far from his people, yet died happily since he had made us his people, too? Or should I speak of the strange and complicated customs -of your own people wherein you sometimes-or so it appears to us-cause the jaw to bite its own leg? Or should I discuss directly the events that have happened here since first you and I shared mud in the sky?" ; 4

Phipps stirred uneasily. "Let me handle it. Sir Isaac. Remember that this young man and I are of the same race. We won't have to beat around the bush; I can put it up to him in two words. It isn't complicated."

Sir Isaac lowered his massive head. "As you wish, my friend."

Phipps turned to Don. "Young fellow, you didn't know it, but when your parents called you home to Mars, you were a courier with a message."

Don looked at him sharply. "But I did know it." His mind raced ahead, adjusting himself to this new situation.

"You did? Well, that's fine! Let's have it, then."

"Have what?"

"The ring-the ring, of course. Give it to us."

XV "Judge Not According to the Appearance"

JOHN VII:24

"WAIT a minute," Don protested. "You're mixed up. I know what ring you mean, all right, but it wasn't the ring; it was the paper that it was wrapped in. And the I.B.I. got that."

Phipps looked perplexed, then laughed. "They did, eh? Then they made the same mistake you did. But it's the ring itself that is important. Let's have it."

"You must be mistaken," Don answered slowly. "Or maybe we aren't talking about the same ring." He thought about it. "It's possible that the I.B.I. swapped rings before the package ever reached me. But it's a dead cinch that the ring that was delivered to me couldn't have contained a message. It was transparent plastic-styrene, probably-and there wasn't even a fly speck in it. No message. No way to hide a message."

Phipps shrugged impatiently. "Don't quibble with me as to whether or not a message could be concealed in the ring-it's the right ring; be sure of that. The I.B.I. didn't switch rings-we know."

"How do you know?"

"Confound it, boyl Your function was to deliver the ring, that's all. You let us worry about the message in it."

Don was beginning to feel sure that when his younger self had bitten Phipps' thumb, he must have been justified. "Wait a minute! I was to deliver the ring, yes-that is what Dr. Jefferson-you know who he is?"

"I knew who he was. I've never met him."

"That's what Dr. Jefferson wanted. He's dead, or so they told me. In any case I can't consult him But he was ,very specific about to wham I was to deliver it-to my father. Not to you."

Phipps pounded the arm of the chair. "I know it, I know it! If things had gone properly, you would have delivered it to your father and we would have been saved no end of trouble. But those eager lads in New London had to- Never mind. The rebellion occurring when it did caused you to wind up here instead of on Mars. I'm trying to pick up the pieces. You can't deliver it to your father, but you can get the same result by turning it over to me. Your father and I are working toward the same end."

Don hesitated before answering, "I don't wish to be rude -but you ought to give some proof of that."

Sir Isaac produced with his voder a sound exactly like a man clearing his throat. "Ahem!" They both turned their heads toward him. "Perhaps," he went on, "I should enter the discussion. I have known Donald, if I may say so, more recently, my dear Phipps."

"Well-go ahead."

Sir Isaac turned most of his eyes on Don. "My dear Donald, do you trust me?"

"Uh, I think so, Sir Isaac-but it seems to me that I am obligated to insist on proof. It isn't my ring."

"Yes, you have reason. Then let us consider what would be proof. If I say...

Don interrupted, feeling that the whole matter was out of hand. "I'm sorry I let this grow into an argument. You see, it does not matter."

"Eh?"

"Well, you see, I don't have the ring any longer. It's gone."

There was a dead silence for a long minute. Then Phipps said, "I think Malath has fainted."

There was scurrying excitement while the Martian's cart was removed to his chambers, tension until it was reported that he was floating in his very special bed and resting comfortably. The conference resumed with three members. Phipps glowered at Don. "It's your fault, you know. What you said took the heart out of him."

"Me? I don't understand."

"He was a courier, too-he was stranded here the same way you were. He has the other half of the message-of the message you lost. And you removed the last possible chance he has of getting home before high gravity kills him. He's a sick man-and you jerked the rug out from under him."

Donald said, "But-"

Sir Isaac interrupted. "Donald is not at fault. The young should be blamed only with just cause and after deliberation, lest the family sorrow."

Phipps glanced at the dragon, then back at Don. "I'm sorry. I'm tired and bad tempered. What's done is done. The important point is: what happened to the ring? Is there any possibility of locating it?"