Norman took the key. The door opened easily. Vermeer's stateroom contained a bunk, desk, two chairs, and a dresser. A spot reading light threw a round beam from the overhead to the desk. A door on the right opened into the bath. There was a second door on the left, but it was closed.
He drew Jennifer inside, closed and locked the door.
"Look through the desk," he commanded. He went to the closed door, opened it, revealing a closet.
"Look," he said. "What's this?"
Jennifer glanced up from the desk. Norman had pulled out a single piece garment with shoes, gloves and helmet attached like a diver's suit. It was made of a very sheer translucent material resembling oiled silk. A zipper-like fastener ran up the back. The suit was pale green, even the eye pieces being the same color.
Jennifer shook her head. "I never saw anything like it before. It isn't heavy enough for a space suit. What do you suppose it could be?"
Norman shrugged, put it back on the rack. He went through the pockets of the remaining clothes, found exactly nothing. From the closet, he turned to the built-in dresser. Again his search was fruitless.
"Have you found anything, Jennifer?"
The girl shook her head. "Not a thing. Except papers from the Venusian Export Lines. He seems to be an accredited agent of theirs after all."
"Let's get out of here," said Norman uneasily.