"And you threatened me," Myra said.
"Not really. I said I wouldn't be responsible for the consequences. I was really referring to my sanity. For days after that I thought about you. Suddenly I realized I had to see you. Absolutely had to! So I came here, hid the ship—"
"And walked around dressed as a Scarb," Jameson sneered.
"Not at first," Edward said. "After I saw you, I guess — well, I guess I fell in love with you. I knew then that if you stayed on Coelle — practically next door, astronomically — I could find the strength to stay on Kerma and finish my book. But I saw that this Jameson fellow was trying to scare you off. So I decided to scare him off."
"Well," Myra said, "I'm glad we finally have met. I enjoyed your book so much."
"Did you?" Edward said, his face brightening.
"Yes. It inspired me to live on Coelle. But I'm sorry to hear it was all a fraud."
"It wasn't!" Edward cried. "The hermit thing was my agent's idea, but the book was perfectly genuine, and I did have all those experiences, and I did feel those things. I like being away from civilization, and I especially like having my own planet. The only thing wrong..."
"Yes?"
"Well, Kerma would be perfect if only I had one other person with me. Someone who understands, who feels as I do."
"I know just how you feel," Myra said.
They looked at each other. When Jameson saw that look, he moaned and put his head in his hands.
"Come on, friend," Olson said, dropping a sympathetic hand on Jameson's shoulder. "You're trumped. I'll give you a lift back to Earth."
Ross nodded vaguely, and started to the door with Olson. Olson said, "Say, I imagine you folks will be needing only one planet before long, huh?"
Myra blushed crimson. Edward looked embarrassed, then said in a firm voice, "Myra and I are going to get married. That is, if you'll have me, Myra. Will you marry me, Myra?"
She said yes in a very small voice.
"That's what I thought," Olson said. "So you won't be needing two planets. Would one of you care to lease your mineral rights? It'd be a nice little income, you know. Help to set up housekeeping."
Ross Jameson groaned and hurried out the door.
"Well," Edward said to Myra, "it isn't a bad idea. We'll be living on Kerma, so you might as well—"
"Just a minute," Myra said. "We are going to live on Coelle and no other place."
"No!" Edward said. "After all the work I've put into Kerma, I will not abandon it."
"Coelle has a better climate."
"Kerma has a lighter gravity."
Olson said, "When you get it figured out, you'll give Transstellar Mining first chance, won't you? For old times' sake?"
They both nodded. Olson shook hands with them and left.
Arnold said, "I believe that solves the mysteries of the Skag Castle. We'll be going now, Myra. We'll return your ship on drone circuit."
"I don't know how to thank you," Myra said.
"Perhaps you'll come to our wedding," Edward said.
"We'd be delighted."
"It'll be on Coelle, of course," Myra said.
"Kerma!"
When the partners left, the young couple were glaring angrily at each other.
VI
When they were at last in space, Terra-bound, Gregor said, "That was a very handsome job of detection."
"It was nothing," Arnold said modestly. "You would have figured it out yourself in a few months."
"Thanks. And it was very nice of you, speaking up for Edward the way you did."
"Well, Myra was a bit strong-minded for me," Arnold said. "And a trifle provincial. I am, after all, a creature of the great cities."
"It was still an extremely decent thing to do."
Arnold shrugged.
"The trouble is, how will Myra and Edward solve this planet problem? Neither seems the type to give in."
"Oh, that's as good as solved," Gregor said offhandedly.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, it's obvious," Gregor said. "And it fills the one gaping hole in your otherwise logical reconstruction of events."
"What hole? What is it?"
"Oh, come now," Gregor said, enjoying his opportunity to the utmost. "It's apparent."
"I don't see it. Tell me."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out in a few months. Think I'll take a nap."
"Don't be that way," Arnold pleaded. "What is it?"
"All right. How tall was Jameson's electronic Scarb, the one that frightened Myra?"
"About nine feet."
"And how tall was Edward, disguised as a Scarb?"
"About six feet tall."
"And the Scarb we saw in our bedroom, the one we shot at—"
"Good Lord!" Arnold gasped. "That Scarb was only four feet tall. We have one Scarb left over!"
"Exactly. One Scarb that no one produced artificially, and that we can't account for — unless Coelle actually is haunted."
"I see what you mean," Arnold said thoughtfully. "They'll have to move to Kerma. But we didn't really fulfill our contract."
"We did enough," Gregor said. "We decontaminated three distinct species of Skag — produced by Jameson, Olson, and Edward. If they want a fourth species taken care of, that'll be a separate contract."
"You're right," Arnold said. "It's about time we became businesslike. And it's for their own good. Something has to make up their minds for them." He thought for a moment. "I suppose they'll leave Coelle to Transstellar Mining. Should we tell Olson that the planet is really haunted?"
"Certainly not," Gregor said. "He'd just laugh at us. Have you ever heard of ghosts frightening an automatic mining machine?"
1956
THE HELPING HAND
Travis had been fired from his job that morning. Boring and low-paying though it had been, it had given him something to live for. Now he had nothing at all, and in his hand he held the means of cutting short a futile and humiliating existence. The bottle contained pellis annabula, a quick, sure, and painless poison. He had stolen it from his former employer, Carlyle Industrial Chemicals. PA was a catalyst used to fix hydrocarbons. Travis was going to fix himself with it, once and for all.
His few remaining friends thought Travis was a neurotic attention-seeker because of his previous suicide attempts. Well, he would show them this time, and they’d be sorry. Perhaps even his wife would shed a tear or two.
The thought of his wife steeled Travis’s resolution. Leota’s love had changed into an indifferent tolerance, and finally into hate—the sharp, domineering, acidic sort against which he was helpless. And the damnable thing was that he still loved her.
Do it now, he thought. He closed his eyes and raised the bottle.
Before he could drink, the bottle was knocked out of his hand. He heard Leota’s sharp voice: “What do you think you’re doing?”
“It should be obvious,” Travis said.
She studied his face with interest. Leota was a large, hard-faced woman with a gift for never-ending beastliness. But now her face had softened.
“You were really going to do it this time, weren’t you?”
“I’m still going to,” Travis said. “Tomorrow or next week will do as well.”
“I never believed you had it in you,” she said. “Some of our friends thought you had guts, but I never did. Well, I guess I’ve really put you through hell all these years. But someone had to run things.”
“You stopped caring for me a long time ago,” Travis said. “Why did you stop me now?”
Leota didn’t answer immediately. Could she be having a change of heart? Travis had never seen her like this before.
“I’ve misjudged you,” she said at last. “I always figured you were bluffing, just to annoy me. Remember when you threatened to jump from the window? You leaned out—like this.”