"Of course not. I wouldn't leave you alone, anyway."
They descended the companionway to their deck, entered Norman's stateroom. Through his port he could still observe the warship pacing them noiselessly.
He padded back and forth across the fiberon carpet. "I wish I had a dart gun, anything. I feel so helpless." He went to the door, opened it a crack, peered out. "Jupiter!" he breathed.
"What is it?" cried Jennifer, starting up from her chair.
"Not so loud," he cautioned. "Come here."
The girl sprang lithely across the deck. On tiptoe, her body pressed against his, she stared over his shoulder through the inch wide crack.
A strange figure stood back to them at the turn in the corridor, a man clad in loose green coveralls with helmet, gloves and boots attached so that no part of his figure was exposed.
"Vermeer!" breathed Jennifer. "He's put on the suit we saw in his closet."
Vermeer remained motionless, half crouched at the end of the hall as if waiting for some signal. A poisoned dart gun was buckled around his waist.
Norman eased the door shut, not allowing it to click, faced Jennifer.