She leaned closer toward me. "He could fool you. But not me—I've known too many magicians." She grinned. "I challenged him to trick me. You should have seen him evading!"
"Do you know Ob Hahn?" I interrupted.
She shook her head. "Never heard of him. But he told me plenty at breakfast. By Satan, what a flow of words that devil driver can muster! He and the Englishman don't mesh very well, do they?"
She stared at me. I had not answered her grin; my mind was too busy with queer fancies. Halsey's words: "Things are not always what they seem—" Were these passengers masqueraders? Were they put here by George Prince? And then I thought of Miko the Martian, and the burn upon his arm.
"Come back, Gregg! Don't go wandering off like that!" She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I'll be serious. I want to know what in hell is going on aboard this ship. I'm a woman and I'm curious. You tell me."
"What do you mean?" I parried.
"I mean a lot of things. What we've just been talking about. And what was the excitement you were in just before breakfast this morning?"
"Excitement?"
"Gregg, you may trust me." For the first time she was wholly serious. Her gaze made sure no one was within hearing. She put her hand on my arm. I could barely hear her whisper: "I know they might have a ray upon us. I'll be careful."
"They?"