She came. I suppose it was no more than an hour: it seemed an eternity of apprehension. There was the slight hissing of the seal of my door. The panel slid. I had leaped from my bunk where in the darkness I was lying tense.
"Prince?" I did not dare say, "Anita."
"Gregg."
Her voice. My gaze swept the deck as the panel opened. Neither Coniston nor anyone else was in sight, save Anita's dark-robed figure which came into my room.
"You got it?" I asked her in a low whisper.
I held her for an instant, kissed her. But she pushed me away with quick hands.
"Gregg, dear—"
She was breathless. My kisses, and the tenseness of what lay before us were to blame.
"Gregg, see, I have it. Give us a little light—we must hurry!"
In the blue dimness I saw that she was holding one of the Martian cylinders. The smallest size; it would paralyze, but not kill.