Director Barrow's face was bleak. His voice sounded like the drip of water from melting ice. "Clothing?" he asked.
"Her lightweight spacesuit is gone. Apparently she put it on over her sleeping pajamas, for they aren't here. Is there anything I can do, sir? I'm worried; she hasn't ever—"
"That will be all, Mrs. Andrews," Barrow replied. "I'll let you know if there is anything."
He turned to Captain Wayne. "Use this set, Captain. Get Communications to send out a general alarm and assembly. You can make all necessary arrangements right here."
Wayne crossed to the communicator, and began to issue rapid instructions.
"Tell them to hurry," the Venusian cut in mockingly. "They have until nine-thirty o'clock."
Mart Wells glanced fearfully at the dial of the chronometer. It was eight-forty now. He turned and caught the Director's glance. "The timer!" he said grimly. "Captain Wayne said it was missing from the wrecked ship. He must have—"
The Venusian was grinning. "Exactly. The timer. And a pound of uranite. That gives you fifty minutes to search Callisto. It would be wiser to spend the time getting a ship ready for me instead."
The silence of the office was broken only by the low voice of Captain Wayne giving orders into the communicator. Abruptly he turned to his superior. His face was white.
"Search is on, sir. But if he isn't lying, there's a chance in a million. Less than an hour, and the area to be covered is—"