"Reasonably so," Olson said. "His camp was deserted."
"Perhaps he went on a hike," Arnold said. "After all, he has an entire planet to wander over."
"I hardly think so. His big ship was gone, and a spaceship is hardly a suitable vehicle for wandering around a planet."
"Very clever deduction," Arnold said enviously.
"Not that it matters," Olson said. "I thought I'd ask him, just for the record." He turned to Myra. "You are the owner of this planet?"
"I am."
"Perhaps you would be interested in hearing our terms?"
"No!" Myra said.
"Wait," Jameson said. "You should at least hear him."
"I'm not interested," Myra said. "I'm not going to have anyone digging up my little planet."
"I don't even know if your planet has anything worth digging for," Olson said. "My company is simply trying to find out which planets are available."
"They'll never get this one," Myra said.
"Well, it isn't too important," Olson said. "There are many planets. Too many," he added with a sigh. "I won't disturb you people any longer. Thank you for your time."
He turned, his shoulders slumping, and trudged back to his ship.
"Won't you stay for dinner?" Myra called impulsively. "You must get pretty tired of eating canned food in that spaceship."
"I do," Olson said with a rueful smile. "But I really can't stay. I hate to make a blastoff after dark."
"Then stay until morning," Myra said. "We'd be glad to put you up."
"I wouldn't want to be any trouble—"
"I've got about two hundred rooms in there," Myra said, pointing at the Skag Castle. "I'm sure we can squeeze you in somewhere."
"You're very kind," Olson said. "I — I believe I will!"
"Hope you aren't nervous about Undead Scarbs," Jameson said.
"What?"
"This planet seems to be haunted," Arnold told him. "By the ghost or ghosts of an extinct reptilian race."
"Oh, come now," Olson said. "You're pulling my leg. Aren't you?"
"Not at all," Gregor said.
Olson grinned to show that no one was taking him in. "I believe I'll tidy up," he said.
"Dinner's at six," Myra said.
"I'll be there. And thank you again." He returned to his ship.
"Now what?" Jameson asked.
"Now we are going to do some searching," Arnold said. He turned to Gregor. "Bring the portable detector. And we'll need a few shovels."
"What are we looking for?" Jameson asked.
"You'll see when we find it," Arnold said. He smiled insidiously and added, "I thought you knew everything."
Coelle was a very small planet, and in five hours Arnold found what he was looking for. In a little valley there was a long mound. Near it, the detector buzzed gaily.
"We will dig here," Arnold said.
"I bet I know what it is," Myra told them. "It's a burial mound, isn't it? And when you've uncovered it, we'll find row upon row of Undead Scarbs, their hands crossed upon their chests, waiting for the full moon. And we'll put stakes through their hearts, won't we?"
Gregor's shovel clanged against something metallic.
"Is that the tomb?" Myra asked.
But when they had thrown aside more dirt, they saw that it was not a tomb. It was the top of a spaceship.
"What's that doing here?" Jameson asked.
"Isn't it apparent?" Arnold said. "The hermit is not on his own planet. We know his feelings about Coelle. Naturally he would be here."
"And naturally he wouldn't leave his spaceship in plain sight!" Gregor said.
"So he's here," Jameson said slowly. "But where? Where on the planet?"
"Almost undoubtedly he's somewhere in the Skag Castle," Arnold said.
Jameson turned in triumph to Myra. "You see? I told you it was that crazy hermit! Now we have to catch him."
"I don't think that will be necessary," Arnold said.
"Why not?"
"At the proper time, Edward the Hermit will appear," Arnold said coolly. And they couldn't get another word out of him.
That evening the auto-cook surpassed itself. Frank Olson was a little stiff at first; but he unbent over the brandy, and regaled them with stories of the planets he had touched upon in his search for mining properties. Jameson wanted to search the castle and drag the hermit out of his hiding place. Sullenly, he yielded when Arnold pointed out the impossibility of four people covering several hundred rooms and passageways.
Later they played bridge. Arnold's mind was elsewhere, however, and after he'd trumped his partner's perfectly good trick a second time, they all decided to call it a night.
V
An hour later, Mike Arnold whispered across the bedroom, "Are you asleep?"
"No," Gregor whispered back.
"Get dressed, then, but leave your shoes off."
"What's up?"
"I think we are going to solve the mystery of Skag Castle tonight. Mind if I borrow your needler?"
Gregor gave it to him. They tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the great central staircase. They found a vantage point behind an enameled suit of Skag armor, from which they could watch without being seen. For half an hour there was silence.
Then they saw a shape at the top of the landing. Soundlessly it crept down the staircase and glided across the hall.
"Who is it?" Gregor whispered.
"Shh!" Arnold whispered back.
They followed the shape into the library. There it hesitated, as though uncertain what to do next.
At that moment the underground rumblings began, shattering the silence. The shape jerked abruptly, startled. A light appeared in its hand. By its feeble glow, the partners recognized Frank Olson.
With his tiny flashlight, Olson searched one library wall. Finally he pressed a panel. It slid back, revealing a small switchboard. Olson turned two dials. The underground noises stopped at once.
Wiping his forehead, Olson listened for several moments. Then he snapped off his light and crept noiselessly back to the hall, up the stairs, and into his bedroom.
Arnold pulled Gregor back behind the enameled armor.
"That ties it," Gregor said. "There's our Undead Scarb."
Arnold shook his head.
"Of course he is," Gregor said. "He must have planned this in order to frighten Myra off the planet. Then he could buy the mineral rights for next to nothing."
"Seems reasonable, doesn't it?" Arnold said. "But you've got a lot to learn about detection. In cases of this sort, what's reasonable is never right. The apparent solution is always wrong. Invariably!"
"Why look for complications that aren't there?" Gregor asked.
"We saw Olson go to that hidden switchboard. We heard the noises stop as soon as he touched the controls. Or was that pure coincidence?"
"No, there's a relationship."
"Hmm. Maybe Olson isn't a mining representative at all. Do you think someone hired him? Edward the Hermit, maybe? As a matter of fact, perhaps he is Edward the Hermit!"
"Shh," Arnold whispered. "Look!"
Gregor's eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. This time he recognized the man at once. It was Jameson, tiptoeing down the stairs.
Jameson walked to one side of the hall and turned on a small flashlight. By its light he found a panel in the wall, and pressed it. The panel slid back, revealing a small switchboard. Jameson breathed heavily and reached for the dials. Before he could touch them he heard a noise, and stepped quickly back.
A figure stepped out of the darkness. It was about six feet in height, and its face was hideous and reptilian. A long, spiked tail dragged behind it, and its fingers were webbed.
"I am the Undead Scarb!" it said to Jameson.
"Awk!" Jameson said, backing away.
"You must leave this planet," the Scarb said. "You must leave at once — or your life is forfeit!"