Greg, leaned back again, drained his glass and set it down.
"It certainly does,” he said.
Outside, seen through the window beside the fireplace, the harvest Moon was a shield of silver hung in the velvet of the sky. A lonesome wind moaned in the pines and under the eaves.
"I got a report from Belgium the other day,” said Greg. “The spaceship is coming along. It'll be the biggest thing afloat in space."
"The biggest and the toughest,” said Russ, and Greg nodded silent agreement.
The ship itself was being manufactured at the great Space Works in Belgium, but other parts of it, apparatus, engines, gadgets of every description, were being manufactured at other widely scattered points. Anyone wondering what kind of ship the finished product would be would have a hard time gathering the correct information, which, of course, was the idea. The “anyone” they were guarding against was Spencer Chambers.
"WE need a better television set,” said Russ. This one we have is all right, but we need the best there is. I wonder if Wilson could get us one in Frisco and bring it back."
"I don't see why not,” said Greg. “Send him a radio."
Russ stepped to the phone, called the spaceport and filed the message.
"He always stays at the greater Martian,” he told Greg. “We'll probably catch him there."