"Dorothy Adison—!"
"Don't talk," she said softly. "Lie still and drink this." She put a glass of warm liquid to his lips. He gulped thirstily and the stuff darted through his veins like fire. Quick strength suffused his body.
He lay there, panting a moment, then slowly struggled up on an elbow. His right arm was tightly bandaged with a piece of silver cloth. He saw it was a strip from the woman's dress, which was in tatters above her rounded knees. She sat on the end of the sofa. She was crying, softly like a child.
"Dorothy Adison," breathed Ricker. "You lie! She was blonde—an Earthian. You're Venusian and—It's a lie!"
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I dyed my hair," she said.
"But your eyes—they're Venusian—slanting—!"
"Makeup," she said.
Ricker sank back upon the sofa. "But why?" he said. "Why!" None of this made sense. Molly Borden confessed killing Benjamin Adison and now she said she wasn't Molly Borden but Adison's daughter....
"You—killed your own father?" It was the only thing Ricker could think of to say.
"Trexel killed him," she said. The phrase seemed to harden her again. "I saw him coming out of the laboratory after father was—. But I couldn't prove it. He had a perfect alibi. And after the inquest, he tried to kill me—twice. I became Molly Borden to escape him, then got the idea of following it through. There was just a chance that confessing the murder might arouse Trexel's curiosity, make him get in touch with me. I took the chance—and it worked...."