Someone rapped at the door. He opened it, revealed a small Mercurian boy in the uniform of the Spaceography Station.
"A spaceogram for Miss Webb," said the boy.
"Me?" cried Joan. "Who could be sending me a spaceogram?"
Jaro took the envelope, handed it to her, tossed the boy a coin. She tore it open eagerly.
"Why, it's from Prince Radnick of the Imperial Martian Court," she said with a puzzled frown. "He's offering me a post as secretary at two thousand notes a year. Two thousand notes a year! Think of it!"
Jaro started, said, "Two thousand notes!" He glanced angrily at Landovitch who was listening with a bland expression.
"Irving!" cried Joan rapturously and threw her arms about the blond T.I.S. agent's bull-like neck. "You're a perfect darling!"
"Let me see that spaceogram," said Jaro Moynahan darkly. He read: "You have been highly recommended by a dear friend of mine, Mr. Irving Landovitch of the T.I.S."
"Jaro," cried the girl, "should I accept it?"
"What? Oh. Yes, of course. As it happens I know the prince very well. I think you'll find the work delightful. If I were you, I'd run down to the desk and get a spaceogram off to him right away." He almost shoved her out of the room. Then he went to the visoscreen, clicked it on, said: "When Miss Webb comes to send a spaceogram, take it, but don't send it. T.I.S. wishes to examine it. Yes. That's right. The T.I.S." He clicked the visoscreen off, turned to Landovitch.