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“Spies,” the director answered. “I can’t prove it, but I’m certain he has spies working for him night and day. They pick up interesting bits of news about the celebrities, and pass them along to him. The poor little movie girls think he’s in league with the powers of darkness, and as a result they tell all. That man knows enough secrets to blow up the colony if he wants to do it. We've tried to run him out of town, but he’s too smart for us. You know, I’m rather sorry I stopped Jaynes last night when he wanted to beat Tarneverro up. I believe it would have been a grand idea. But on the other hand, Shelah’s name would have been dragged into it, and remembering that, I broke up the row. The pictures are my profession, there are lots of fine people in the colony, and I don’t like to see them suffer from harmful publicity. Unfortunately the decent ones must share the disgrace when the riffraff on the fringe misbehaves.”

“Was it your intention,” Chan inquired, “to hint that Tarneverro the Great may have killed Shelah Fane?”

“Not at all,” responded Martino hastily. “Don’t get me wrong. I was only trying to point out that if you sense a clever opponent in this affair, you should remember that there are few men cleverer than the fortune-teller. Further than that, I say nothing. I don’t know whether he did it or not.”

“For the time between eight and eight-thirty last night,” Chan informed him, “Tarneverro has most unshakable alibi.”

Martino stood up. “He would have. As I told you, he’s as slick as they come. Well, so long. Good luck to you—and I mean that with all my heart.”

He strolled off toward the glittering sea and left