the moves of hundreds of dangerous criminals all at the same time.
"Grumbold, Grumbold, Grumbold . . . Oh yes! I remember. Dangerous international conspirator. The latest report from the Secret Service about him—"
"Don't trouble," snaps Wimp. "I'll speak to the Secret Service myself."
The Chief of Police only had time to get ready to look surprised before his face vanished from the screen.
"And what a Secret Service," Wimp muttered. "Three attempts to assassinate me and three kidnappings in a couple of years!"
My wife certainly has had a lively time lately. But I don't think it's quite fair of her to blame her dad's service chiefs. Wimp herself is not always as careful as she should be. And on a planet as full of dangerous criminals as Mars is it is not very difficult for the Heiress to the Throne to find trouble. She behaves like an overgrown schoolgirl. That's my opinion. No staid reliable Princess about her. Always snake-hunting, grotto-exploring, or up to some still sillier game.
And when they had dusted her down and pulled the splinters out of her she didn't seem any the worse for wear.
Anyway, it wasn't long before she had the frontispiece of the Secret Service Chief on the teleview screen. He was a man with a lean face and a long hooked nose that made him seem to be looking round a corner at you. And he had such a cunning look in his eyes that he would have made Sherlock Holmes seem like a schoolboy.
"Aha!" he said, tapping his nose, "there is a considerable traffic in chemicals and machine parts to the port of Nowollo in Kuspilad!"
"What are you talking about?" gasped Wimp.
It was said of Weil Hektorum, greatest detective of Mars, that no matter what happened he never looked surprised. It was not true. Hektorum looked surprised then. He seemed unable to believe that anybody, no matter how stupid, could fail to understand his remark.
"Can I be mistaken?" he muttered. "Don't you want to trace Prince Grumbold and his bogus Professor?"
"Why, certainly, I do. We do. All of us do. But how in Mars did you know—"
"Really, Princess," said Hektorum, with a pained sigh, "you do not give me credit for the most ordinary common-sense. Bruny Hudells was recently called to your suite. What would you, Prince Don and Vans Holors be discussing with him? The prospects for the coming zekolo races, perhaps. But would you ring up the Chief of the Secret Service about that? No. There is only one explanation. You want to know how the search for the white powder is going on. That means you want to find Prince Grumbold. That means you are interested to know of our latest clue. Or, at least, I thought you would be."
"But what had your item of shipping news—"
"Really!" Hektorum sighed again. "You are looking for a scientist who uses many strange processes. Obviously he needs supplies of chemicals and machine parts!"
"Say no more," said Wimp. "Don, Bruny, Vans! We are going to Novwollo to find Grumbold."
"Give me a minute or two," said Hektorum, "and I will join you."
HE TOOK a box out of a drawer. It had a cable which he plugged into his power supply. It also had a rubber pad which he moved slowly over his face.
