"Think we're safe?" Madson asked.
Ellenby shrugged. "We'll discover," he said briefly.
Madson shivered, but the rhythmic job was soothing. After a bit he began to feel almost playful. Lathering his shirt, he got some fine large bubbles, held them so he could see their colors flow in the sunlight.
"Tiny perfect worlds of every hue," he murmured. "Violet, blue, green, yellow, orange, red."
"And dead black," Ellenby added.
"You would say something like that!" Madson grunted. "What did you think I was talking about?"
"Bubbles."
"Maybe some of your friends' poisons have black bubbles," Madson said bitingly. "But I was talking about these."
"So was I. Give me your pipe."