The woman nodded, her flame-colored hair glinting golden in the light.
The director thrust himself to the fore. "Won't you come into the messroom? There are hundreds of questions we'd like to ask, Miss ... Miss...."
"My name's Margot," she said. "Margot Drake. Where is this messroom?"
"This way," began the director.
Margot Drake glanced at a wrist watch. "But I must warn you. My girls should have brought up the rocket gun by this time. If I'm not out in half an hour, they'll shell the ship."
Isaac Trigg's jaw dropped. "But, really! That's preposterous!" he sputtered. "Why in heaven's name should they shell us?"
The red-headed woman smiled faintly. "Obviously, you've no idea of the situation today."
"Obviously," Matt agreed. "But we've hope of finding out from you. If you'll just step this way, Miss Drake...."
When the strange white man saw the red-headed woman, he cowered terrified in the opposite corner.
"So there you are, Scobbie," Margot Drake said in a cold voice. "I'll flay the hide off of you for this."