Bert Doyle burst into harsh laughter.
"Danny! Danny!" he cried. "I've been predicting this! You've gone stir-bugs!"
"Ain't neither!"
"Just a moment, Bert," Nelson whispered. Aloud he said, "Dan, go call the guard for me, please." When the old man had shuffled out of earshot the priest said to the condemned man, "It could be true, Bert. By radium, he means radioactive material. And there's no reason spaceships can't get to Mars. We'd reached the Moon before the war started, you know."
Doyle sank back on his bunk.
"Well, I'll be damned!" he breathed.
"Bert!"
Doyle grinned sheepishly. "Force of habit." Then, more soberly, "So they're off to Mars, eh? Father, you better get down there and pick up your reservations!"
"Don't be ridiculous!" The priest's voice softened and he patted the killer's shoulder. "I will go down and see what's what, Bert. And I'll be back just as soon as the men have quieted down. That is, if they are creating a disturbance."
The footsteps of the approaching guard sounded loud in the corridor. Doyle frowned a little.