"Yes." Her gaze was steady on him. "We talked, out there in the bay. He wanted to convince me I should help him. Tom—he isn't human."
"Eh?" Bancroft's heavy form jerked. With an effort he steadied himself. "What do you mean?"
"That muscular strength and speed, and telepathy. He can see in the dark and hold his breath longer than any man. No, he isn't human."
Bancroft looked at Dalgetty's motionless form. The prisoner's eyes clashed with his and it was he who looked away again. "A telepath, did you say?"
"Yes," she answered. "Do you want to prove it, Dalgetty?"
There was stillness in the room. After a moment Dalgetty spoke. "You were thinking, Bancroft, 'All right, damn you, can you read my mind? Go ahead and try it and you'll know what I'm thinking about you.' The rest was obscenities."
"A guess," said Bancroft. There was sweat on his cheeks. "Just a good guess. Try again."
Another pause, then, "'Ten, nine, seven, A, B, M, Z, Z ...' Shall I keep on?" Dalgetty asked quietly.
"No," muttered Bancroft. "No, that's enough. What are you?"
"He told me," put in Elena. "You're going to have trouble believing it. I'm not sure if I believe it myself. But he's from another star."