When his chronometer clocked off the beginning of the twenty-first day, Jon received a tumbler of the hemlock from the hands of No. 1 himself.
"It is the hemlock," he chuckled, "undiluted. Drink it and your torture is over. You will die before your SP ship is destroyed.
"We have played with you long enough. Today we begin to toy with your SP ship. Drink up, Earthman, drink to enslavement."
Weak though he was Jon lunged to his feet, spilling the tumbler of liquid. It ran cool along the plastic arm of his space suit. He changed his mind about throwing the contents on No. 1.
With a smile he set the glass at his lips and drank. Then he laughed at No. 1.
"The SP ship will turn your ship into jelly."
No. 1 swept out, chuckling. "Boast if you will, Earthman, it's your last chance."
There was an exultation in Jon's heart that deadened the hunger and washed away the nausea.
At last he knew what the hemlock was.
He sat on the pallet adjusting the little power-pack radio. The SP ship should now be within range of the set. The space patrol was notorious for its accuracy in keeping to schedule. Seconds counted like years. They had to be on the nose, or it meant disaster or death.