<h2 id="c13"><br/><i>PAPER TREASURE FOR MARS</i></h2>
<p>Hugh Davone and Link Malloy
sat at the wall desk of the space ship compartment
poring over their albums of interplanetary
postage stamps. The atom-powered
<i>Princess of Mars</i>, cargo and passenger liner,
was only a few hours out on its Earth-to-Mars
run.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_172">172</div>
<p>“It makes me nervous thinking of the thousands
of dollars’ worth of stamps we’re carrying
in the wall safe,” Link said. “I don’t think
I’m going to enjoy this trip.”</p>
<p>“Take it easy, Link,” Hugh replied, with
a lighthearted grin. “There are Space Guardsmen
aboard ship to protect us.”</p>
<p>The fellows were on their annual vacation
from the Space Cadet Corps. Since cadets in
training could ride any space ship free, the
two were escorting a valuable shipment of Mr.
Davone’s interplanetary stamps to another
dealer opening up shop in Mars City.</p>
<p>“I’m worrying about that white-haired old
character your dad said asked suspicious questions
at his shop the other day,” Link said.
“Seems funny that he is making the trip to
Mars the same time we are.”</p>
<p>“Probably only a coincidence,” Hugh answered.
“There’s only one flight a month to
Mars, you know.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_173">173</div>
<p>“There are unscrupulous dealers who would
give anything to lay their hands on our shipment,”
Link went on. “This deal means an
awful lot to your dad’s stamp business, Hugh.
If we should bungle the job, he certainly
would lose a lot.”</p>
<p>“Sure he would,” Hugh agreed, then he
added, “but we aren’t going to bungle it.”</p>
<p>This seemed to satisfy Link and a smile of
confidence deepened the corners of his broad,
friendly mouth.</p>
<p>Hugh picked up a stamp with his tongs. “I
came across this duplicate from the Venus
pictorial issue. It’s the six-dollar blue of the
Valley of Mists. Have you got it?”</p>
<p>Link leaned over. “No! What have you
been doing, Hugh, holding out on me? How
about some of my 2027 Lunar commems in
trade?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_174">174</div>
<p>They worked out an exchange. The Lunar
stamps were curious specimens, imperforate
and circular. They depicted the Lunar hemisphere
which faces Earth. The single-stamp
issue had been distributed on the fiftieth anniversary
of man’s first landing on the moon
and was much in demand.</p>
<p>Suddenly there was a knock on the outer
door of the compartment.</p>
<p>Hugh got up and went to the door. As he
walked, his magnetic-sole shoes rasped against
the metallic floor like a knife being honed. He
opened the door.</p>
<p>A man with the face and build of a leprechaun
looked at Hugh. His pale but alert blue
eyes peered steadily into Hugh’s. Hugh also
began to wonder why this customer at Davone’s
Philatelic Shop should be making the
voyage to Mars with them.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir?” Hugh asked.</p>
<p>“May I come in?” the man asked. “My name
is Oscar Benasco.”</p>
<p>Hugh hesitated, thinking about the valuable
cargo, then he replied reluctantly,
“Yes.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_175">175</div>
<p>“Your father certainly has a fine shop, Hugh
Davone,” the elderly man said brightly as he
entered. “However, I was disappointed to find
out that he had packed up some of his choicest
space items and was selling them to Mr. Elfs,
a dealer on Mars.”</p>
<p>“You know quite a lot, Mr. Benasco,” Link
remarked coolly.</p>
<p>“Yes, I pride myself on my shrewdness,”
Mr. Benasco replied in a modest manner. His
roving eyes came to rest on the boys’ albums.
“I see you two have collections of your own.”</p>
<p>“Nothing very valuable,” Hugh replied.
“But we enjoy our stamps just the same.”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” Benasco said. His eyes brightened
with eagerness and he placed the tips of
his outspread fingers together. “Speaking of
valuable items—those you are taking to Mars—no
doubt you keep them in your compartment
safe. I wonder if you might show them
to me?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Mr. Benasco,” Hugh said, “but
I promised my dad I wouldn’t take the stamps
out to show anyone until they were safely in
the hands of Mr. Elfs on Mars.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_176">176</div>
<p>Benasco looked completely crestfallen. His
rounded shoulders slumped and the most
pained expression covered his face. “Surely
just a look—” he pleaded.</p>
<p>“If you are going to Mars, as you must be,”
Hugh went on, “you’ll be able to see them all
in Mr. Elfs’s shop, and you can talk to him
about any stamps you might want to buy.”</p>
<p>“Then that’s your final answer?” Mr. Benasco
asked, his disappointment giving way
to annoyance.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid it must be,” Hugh told him.
“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“You’ve disappointed me sorely, young
man,” Mr. Benasco retorted. “Good day to
you.”</p>
<p>He turned briskly and clattered out the
door. As he left, Hugh caught sight of the
handle of an old type miniature rocket pistol
protruding from his coat pocket.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_177">177</div>
<p>“Did you see that pistol?” Link asked, in
surprise. “It’s a wonder he didn’t hold us up
for the stamps right here and now! But I
guess he was afraid to risk it.”</p>
<p>“For a moment I almost felt sorry for him
and was about to give in,” Hugh admitted.
“Now I’m glad I didn’t.”</p>
<p>In the days that followed, Hugh and Link
saw little of Mr. Benasco except in the dining
room.</p>
<p>One morning, near the end of the flight,
Hugh and Link were standing in front of
their compartment port looking out. The
orange-red globe of Mars was so dominant
that it seemed to press back the surrounding
stars and nebulae to near obscurity.</p>
<p>“Only a few more days and our shipment
will be safely in the hands of Mr. Elfs in Mars
City,” Hugh said. “Then Mr. Benasco will be
Mr. Elfs’s worry.”</p>
<p>“That will be just dandy as far as I’m concerned,”
Link replied earnestly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_178">178</div>
<p>By this year of 2031, space mail service had
increased to such proportions that it had
opened up a brand new field of stamp specialization
for the philatelist. It was for this reason
that Mr. Elfs was attempting a stamp hobby
business in Mars City. Mr. Davone’s portfolios
of both low and high values was to provide
him with the bulk of his opening merchandise.</p>
<p>Even the most remote colonies of the Solar
System, including the farthest on Triton, Neptune,
had their own postage by now. The lone
Triton bi-color, picturing Valhalla Peak, tallest
mountain yet discovered in the System, was
one of the most wanted by collectors.</p>
<p>Suddenly the chimes for lunch were heard
over the compartment intercom.</p>
<p>Entering the dining room, Hugh and Link
saw Benasco in his usual place at the end of
the table near the door. They took their seats
and Link smiled at his plate. “Cubed beef,
Hugh.”</p>
<p>Hugh grinned. “You can’t say they don’t
aim to please on the <i>Princess of Mars</i>.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_179">179</div>
<p>But the fellows did not get to finish their
cubed roast, nor did anyone else at the table.</p>
<p>A shock hit the ship like an unheralded
thunderbolt. Hugh had the crazy feeling of
being in a nightmare. After the deafening report,
he felt his lap belt snap, and then he was
hoisted out of his chair as though in the vortex
of a whirlwind. The table tore loose from the
floor fittings. Hugh bounced into a coffee urn
and it nearly stunned him. Groans of distress
from those around him filled his ears.</p>
<p>“What has happened?” Hugh thought
dazedly.</p>
<p>The ship’s disaster siren pealed along the
corridors of the <i>Princess of Mars</i>. Medical men
with stretchers came running and officers
snapped out brisk orders. Hugh groped anxiously
through the melee for Link. He struggled
over twisted chair tubing and found his
friend helping those who were hurt.</p>
<p>“We’ve got work to do,” Link told him.</p>
<p>Hugh rolled up his sleeves. He was still
giddy. “I’m ready,” he said.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_180">180</div>
<p>It was reported later that there were no
fatalities, but there were enough injured persons
to keep the infirmary staff busy for awhile.</p>
<p>Hugh and Link, working side by side with
the medical men, had not seen anything of
Benasco since the accident. The ship’s engineers
revealed that a meteorite had caused
the disaster. It had struck fairly close to the
compartment occupied by Hugh and Link.
Hugh shuddered to think what it would have
been like to have been tossed about in their
room like a pea in a whistle. Such would have
been his and Link’s fate had the strike occurred
half an hour earlier.</p>
<p>The cadets had not yet had the opportunity
to check their quarters for damage. When the
physician in charge finally freed them with
thanks for their help, Hugh thought about
the stamps for the first time since the unnerving
incident.</p>
<p>“Link,” he said urgently, “we’ve got to get
back and check on those stamps! This has been
a perfect set up for Benasco and his scheme!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_181">181</div>
<p>“Right behind you,” Link said as they hurried
from the infirmary.</p>
<p>Along the way, the two found warped walls
and doors that had been flung open. Luckily
all the occupants in the worst-hit area had
been in the dining room at the terrible moment,
or there surely would have been fatalities.</p>
<p>Reaching their compartment, Hugh and
Link found that the door had been forced
open by the explosion.</p>
<p>Hugh hurried over to the wall safe. He felt
a chill of dread race through him. The vault
door also was open and the chamber was
empty.</p>
<p>“They’re gone!” Hugh said hoarsely. “All
of Dad’s stamps are gone!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_182">182</div>
<p>Hugh slumped remorsefully on his cot, taut
fingers combing through his hair. “Dad
wanted to have the stamps insured,” he said
bitterly, “but I was trying to save him money.
The insurance fee was enormous, and on top
of that he would have had to pay the fare both
to and from Mars for the agents who would
carry the shipment. How I wish they had done
it now!”</p>
<p>“If Benasco has the stamps, we may still be
able to recover them,” Link said. “Let’s go
see him.”</p>
<p>Hugh got up, his face set, his palm shaped
into a fist. “If Benasco <i>is</i> the one, I’ll personally—oh,
never mind! Come on!”</p>
<p>They moved down corridor “E,” which was
away from the center of the damage. This was
the hall where they knew Benasco’s room was
located. Scarcely anybody was in the section
at present. Those who resided in the nearby
rooms were either helping out in the emergency,
or they were idly watching the beginning
of repairs. The outside meteor bumper
and the inner buffer bulkheads had kept the
destruction to a minimum. By automatically
sealing themselves off from the rest of the ship
at the moment of impact, the protective bulkheads
had kept the ship from being decompressed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_183">183</div>
<p>Hugh and Link found their suspect’s door
closed. Hugh walked up to it and tried the
knob.</p>
<p>The door opened under Hugh’s push, but
the compartment was vacant.</p>
<p>“He’s gone,” Link said.</p>
<p>“He must be somewhere close by,” Hugh
returned impatiently. “We haven’t passed him
on the way, so he must be farther down the
corridor.”</p>
<p>“Maybe he’s looking for a place to hide the
portfolios until we land,” Link suggested. “He
knows we’ll suspect him of taking them.”</p>
<p>Hugh nodded. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>As the two moved ahead down the quiet
passageway, Link spoke in a tense voice, “Do
you think we’re right trying to tackle that little
guy alone? We’re each bigger than he is, but
he’s got a pistol and we haven’t.”</p>
<p>“We’ll be careful,” Hugh promised.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_184">184</div>
<p>There were a number of storerooms lining
the corridor. The cadets checked one after another.
The rooms were shrouded in tomblike
silence and full of dark hiding places. But the
search revealed no sign of Benasco or the missing
portfolios.</p>
<p>“He seems to have disappeared right into
the air,” Link said discouragingly. “Hugh, I
hate to say it, but something tells me we aren’t
going to see either Benasco or those stamps
again.”</p>
<p>They were approaching the door of an
outer-ship repair room. Hugh knew that a
ladder in this room led directly up to the outside
hull of the ship.</p>
<p>“You’re probably thinking along the same
lines that I am, Link,” Hugh replied gravely.
“It may be farfetched, but a person as shrewd
as Mr. Benasco makes out to be might have
cooked up a pretty clever plan. He may have
had a portable transmitter hidden somewhere
so that he could contact another party outside
the ship.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_185">185</div>
<p>“I get it!” Link said. “He might have radioed
this crony in a space taxi to meet him on
the outer skin. Then they could both take off
with the loot and either land on Mars or on
one of the moons!”</p>
<p>As Link spoke, Hugh was staring through
the plastic window of the room. A wall hid
much of the interior from view. Suddenly he
saw the very man they were seeking cross the
room and disappear beyond the corner of the
concealing wall.</p>
<p>Link caught a glimpse of him too. “Hey!”
he burst out. “Wasn’t that <i>him</i>?”</p>
<p>“It sure was,” Hugh replied, feeling better
now. “He probably just entered the room
from another door along the next side corridor.”</p>
<p>Hugh gently turned the knob and the door
swung open soundlessly. “We’ll slip in softly,”
he whispered. “Then we can try to take him
by surprise around the corner up ahead. We’ll
have to watch our step because he’s probably
desperate and will have his pistol ready for use.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_186">186</div>
<p>“He deserves to get twenty years for a theft
like this,” Link whispered fiercely. “How did
he ever expect to get away with it?”</p>
<p>“He <i>won’t</i> get away with it,” Hugh whispered
confidently. “Right now he’s probably
getting into a space suit so he can pop through
the outer hatch and join his confederate outside.”</p>
<p>They had reached the corner on tiptoe.
Hugh, in the lead, peered carefully around
the corner. He gaped in surprise at what he
saw:</p>
<p>Benasco was seated on the floor like a child
with a new scrapbook, and he was chattering
away ecstatically to himself!</p>
<p>“My, oh, my, what a splendid group!” he
was saying. “There’s a <i>tete beche</i> pair of old
1989 Space Stations I’ve always wanted! And
look at this one—a full sheet of Europa triangles!
Oscar Benasco will have the most
splendid collection of space stamps in all the
Solar System!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_187">187</div>
<div class="fig"> id="pic5"> <ANTIMG src="images/i06.jpg" alt="Benasco was seated on the floor like a child with a new scrapbook" width-obs="500" height-obs="601" /> <p class="caption"><i>Benasco was seated on the floor like a child with a new scrapbook</i></p> </div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_188">188</div>
<p>Hugh came out of hiding, followed by Link.
“The jig’s up, Mr. Benasco,” Hugh said.
“How about returning our property?”</p>
<p>The old man was so preoccupied that he
did not notice Hugh and Link immediately.
“Dear, dear,” he purred, “what a beautiful
set of Einstein memorial surcharges! I wonder
if young Davone will break up the set? I
have some of them.”</p>
<p>“He’s just a queer old guy,” Link remarked
as the two of them strode up to him.</p>
<p>“Oh, hello, boys,” Mr. Benasco greeted
them casually. “I was hoping I’d found a place
where I wouldn’t be disturbed for awhile. I
knew you’d come by my room. I hope you
don’t mind the liberty I’ve taken with your
stamps. But I did <i>ask</i> to see them and you
refused, you know?”</p>
<p>Hugh took from him the portfolio he was
holding. “How many stamps have you removed
from here?” he demanded.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_189">189</div>
<p>The man’s snowy brows went up in surprised
indignation. “Removed?” he shrilled,
his face coloring. “I’ve never been accused of
stealing in my life, sir! I merely borrowed your
collection to see if it has the items I need.
When the explosion blew open your safe, it
was simply a temptation I could not resist.”</p>
<p>“Those rare items you need cost money,”
Hugh reminded him. “Lots of it.”</p>
<p>“Young man,” Mr. Benasco grunted, “you
do not need to tell me of the value of postage
stamps. I’m well acquainted with Scott’s catalogue.
I have every intention of paying for
my merchandise.” He pulled out such a wad
of bills that Link gasped. “You see, I <i>can</i> pay.”</p>
<p>“What about that rocket pistol you’re carrying
in your pocket, Mr. Benasco?” Link
asked suspiciously. “Do you always go around
armed?”</p>
<p>“Oh, this?” the old man asked, taking out
the rusted miniature model. “This is nothing
but an old relic of mine when I was a space
hand myself on a freighter. I carry it with me
sometimes, because it gives me a feeling of confidence.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_190">190</div>
<p>Hugh chuckled as a vast feeling of relief
came over him. “You certainly had us fooled,
Mr. Benasco. We thought surely you were a
stamp thief out to steal our valuable stamps.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps my methods have puzzled you
somewhat,” Mr. Benasco declared. “But I
had to see those rarities before you got rid of
them. Somebody might have bought them before
I could. Perhaps Mr. Elfs would have
held them out for his own collection. You
must sell them to me, young man! I believe I
should die if I could not get them! Stamps
represent the only pleasure that is left to me.”</p>
<p>“All right, Mr. Benasco, since it means so
much to you,” Hugh agreed, smiling. “Being
a hobbyist myself, I know what a hold stamps
can have on a person. We’ll take the portfolios
back to our compartment and discuss the
stamps you want. But if my father or Mr. Elfs
complains about this, you’ll have to share the
blame.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_191">191</div>
<p>“Gladly, gladly,” was the willing reply.
“Do you mind telling us why you’re going
to Mars, Mr. Benasco?” Link asked.</p>
<p>“I’ve got a son there working on a canal
project. He invited me and my stamp collection
to come and stay as long as I liked, since
I had lived with my other son so long in the
States. I thought it was nice of him.”</p>
<p>As Hugh and Link were leading the way
out of the room, the portfolios safely tucked
under their arms, Hugh remarked in a whisper
to his pal, “Link, I’ll never prejudge another
person as long as I live.”</p>
<p>Link stole a look back at Mr. Benasco who
was clicking along behind and smiling rapturously.
“That calls for a mutual pledge, Hugh,”
Link replied soberly, with a shake of his head.
“Let’s shake on it.”</p>
<p>And they did.</p>
<h2 id="tn">Transcriber’s Notes</h2><ul>
<li>Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.</li>
<li>Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.</li>
<li>In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)</li>
</ul>
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