"Are you insane?" he roared.
Larry's mood was not one of arguing. Again he struck, and this time the blow chopped into Carlyle's mouth and brought blood.
Ordinarily the bigger man could have cut Larry down with a few man-killing punches, but the madness in Larry Wolfe knew neither pain nor weakness. He took savage blows to the face and ribs, but stayed on his feet. A lucky uppercut jarred Carlyle's teeth in his head, and for an instant he was sagging against the wall.
Larry seized that split-second to spring to the bedside of the terrified girl and tear the necklace from her throat. He threw it at Carlyle with all his force. The gem missed, shivered into tiny, glittering crystals on the floor, like shining drops of blood.
Thaddeus Carlyle's face paled under its deep tan. He glanced down at the wreck of the crystal heart. He was on the point of drawing his pistol when the alarm began to ring.
"Mr. Carlyle! Captain Wolfe!" the voice boomed through the ship. "Martian returning. All hands at their posts!"
On the tail of the warning came a shock that tore the Friar Bacon from the side of the derelict. Larry had a glimpse through the port, of men in space suits left hanging in the void between the two ships, of gold ingots floating grotesquely around them.
The battle was forgotten, as fighters toppling over a cliff forget their differences and scramble for safety. Larry followed the ship owner up the corridor, climbed the ladder to the top deck, sprang to the firing lever of the big energy gun stationed in the nose.
The other men darted from the control room to their posts. The Friar was stationary for a second, while Carlyle located the other ship. With a surge of swift power that took the passengers' breath, the craft shot after it.