The half wit looked innocently at him. His airpac was strapped around the collar of his coat. Evidently Gail did not consider him intelligent enough even to breathe properly on Mars! Barnard squeezed his own airpac in an automatic motion. Oxygen on Mars was just short of enough for humans. A man would sooner be minus his pants than his airpac, though Martian-born humans needed them only at time of exertion.
"We live in Chicago."
"Yes—that's on Earth. But where do you stay on Mars?"
"In Chicago on Mars, too."
Barnard looked suspiciously at him. But the vacuous expression certainly was not feigned; George Melvin's eyes were less intelligent than a fish's.
"Do you stay at Quong Kee's?" the reporter tried.
"Sometimes. At night we go back to Chicago. Where do you stay?"
"In the fog, most of the time." Barnard tried another line. "Where's Gail now?"
"In jail." George Melvin said it without changing his tone or his expression.
Barnard seized his coat front and stared into the dull eyes. "In jail? George, what happened? Who arrested her? Why?"