"This man is looking for some—some friends of his, Dad. I thought you might be able to help him."
She held out the picture and, to her relief, her father stared at that instead of at her. Sometimes he was a little too shrewd; if she was making a fool of herself, there was no need for him to know it. He could be a sardonic man and he did not suffer fools gladly, even in his own family. He was of the opinion that she had used up her quota of foolishness with John Burr.
He was shaking his head. "Sorry, I've never seen them. Are you sure they live around here?"
"No," said the man. "I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything, except that they're my wife and kids. And I've got to find them."
"Have you checked at the District Office?"
"I did that first. They couldn't help me, but they said their records weren't complete yet."
"They're complete enough, I should think. Maybe they don't list every prospector who wanders around without settling down, but they wouldn't be likely to miss a woman and two children. I'm afraid that you're wasting your time looking on Ganymede."
The man's face clouded. "It isn't a waste of my time," he said. "I've got nothing else to do with it. And I have to find them. They need me."
Mr. Marsh looked away from the man to his daughter, and Carol was a little slow in avoiding his eyes. "I see," he said, and she had an idea of what he meant by that. He saw too much.