Cosmo heard a soft step behind him, whirled around. His Jovian guard was standing placidly just within the door.
"Damn," he snapped, nerves jangling. "I'm not going to crawl out the drain."
The blue giant never changed expression by so much as a flicker.
Cosmo got a grip on himself, shot the giant his flashing grin. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
He stripped off coat and trousers, hung them carefully over the Jovian's shoulder, stepped under the shower.
Considerably refreshed, he returned to his sleeping chamber, crawled raw into the huge bed. But sleep escaped him. That stark cross, the body illuminated by the radiations of the lichens and mosses, persisted in thrusting itself before his eyes. He clenched his fists, trembled in an agony of impotent fury. Somehow, he'd trip up Bemmelman, smash his disgusting racket.
Cosmo awakened in the huge bed, sweating with terror. The echo of some nameless horror still rang in his ears. He saw the Dawn Man, motionless as a statue, watching him with animal patience. Then he heard it again.
It was a girl's scream. It reached him faintly. It went on and on. He leaped out of bed, tugged on his trousers.
The Dawn Man sprang across the room to intercept him. Cosmo seized a metal chair, swung it with the same movement. It caught the blue giant on his head and shoulders. The blow would have felled an ox. The Jovian folded onto the carpet, lay still. Cosmo thought he must be dead.