There was singularly little disturbance at the luncheon-table. The whole event was climax and anticlimax together. Hallet's intention was so appallingly murderous and his action so shockingly futile that the four who were to have been his victims tended to stare blankly while Moran throttled him.
Burleigh seemed to recover first. He tried to pull Moran's hands loose from Hallet's throat. Lacking success he called to the others. "Harper! Brawn! Help me!"
It took all three of them to release Hallet. Then Moran stood panting, shaking, his eyes like flames.
"He—he—" panted Moran. "He was going to kill Carol!"
"I know," said Burleigh, distressedly. "He was going to kill all of us. You gave me an inkling, so while he was packing bessendium between the hulls, and had his space-suit hanging in the airlock, I doctored the blaster in the space-suit pocket." He looked down at Hallet. "Is he still alive?"
Brawn bent over Hallet. He nodded.
"Put him in the airlock for the time being," said Burleigh. "And lock it. When he comes to, we'll decide what to do."
Harper and Brawn took Hallet by the arms and hauled him along the passageway. The inner door of the lock clanged shut on him.
"We'll give him a hearing, of course," said Burleigh conscientiously. "But we should survey the situation first."