"If the Dohlmites aren't blight resistant, Jennifer, this may be the weapon." His voice was hoarse with excitement, the radium forgotten. He said, "In the early days in America, blight attacked the chestnut trees. It wiped out every American chestnut from coast to coast."
"What about the other trees?" she asked, puzzled.
"Well," he admitted, "it didn't harm them."
"Maybe the plant men aren't susceptible to this disease, either."
"Maybe not, but it's a chance. It's the only chance that's presented itself, and we haven't much time left before the Dohlmites will order the attack on Ganymede." Tenderly, he dug up the infected plant, wrapped its roots in his handkerchief.
"What in the world are you doing?"
"I'm going to infect a Dohlmite with this blight!" he replied grimly.
Jennifer giggled.
"What's so funny?" he wanted to know.
"Blight! It does seem such an odd method of attack."