The Mammoth Book of Golden Age SF by Isaac Asimov Page A

confinement. His haggard eyes turned on Tony. He came forward, looking up at the growing planet of destruction.
    “Erle has calculated three days, eight hours and a few minutes. But it’s ample time, isn’t it, lieutenant?”
    “One jet will straighten out with some man-size labor. Then we can start unloading extra tonnage. Lots of it.”
    “Yes. Yes. I know.” He cleared his throat. His eyes turned on Tony, filled with a peculiar kind of desperation. “Lieutenant,” he said huskily, “there’s something I have to tell you. The ring came back.”
    Tony’s head jerked. “It came back?” he blurted.
    “In a fish.”
    “
Fish
?”
    Overland ran a trembling hand across his brow. “Yesterday a week ago, Laurette served fried fish. She used an old dress for a net, I found the ring in what she brought to my room. Well, I’m not superstitious about the ring. One of us
is
the skeleton – up there. We can’t avoid it. I put the ring on – more bravado than anything else. But this morning” – his voice sank to a whisper – “the ring was gone. Now I’m becoming superstitious, unscientifically so. Laurette is the only one who could – or would – have taken it. The others would have been glad it was on my finger rather than theirs. Even Erle.”

     
    Tony stared through him. He was remembering Laurette’s peculiar smile. Abruptly, he strode toward the ship, calling back hurriedly:
    “Better go inside, sir.”
    In the ship, he knocked sharply on Laurette’s door.
    She answered nervously, “Yes.”
    “May I come in?”
    “No. No. Do you have to?”
    He thought a moment, then opened the door and stepped inside. She was standing near her bed, her eyes haunted.
    Tony extended a hand imperatively. “Give me the ring.”
    She said, her voice low, controlled, “Lieutenant, I’ll keep the ring. You tell that to the others. Then there won’t be any of this nervous tension and this murder plotting.”
    He said ominously, “You may wind up a skeleton.”
    “You said the skeleton was not a woman.”
    “I was lying.”
    “You mean,” she said, “it
was
a woman?”
    Tony said patiently, “I mean that I don’t know. I couldn’t tell. Do I get the ring, or don’t I?”
    She drew a deep breath. “Not in the slightest can it decide who will eventually die.”
    Tony advanced a step. “Even your father doesn’t believe that now,” he grated.
    She winced. “I’ll keep the ring and stay in my room except when I cook. You can keep everybody out of the ship. Then there won’t be anybody to harm me.”
    Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Masters entered the room. Tension had drawn hollow circles under eyes that refused to stay still.
    “You,” he said to Laurette, his voice thin, wavering. He stood with his back to the wall. He wet his lips. “I was talking with your father.”
    “All right, all right,” she said irritably. “I’ve got the ring, and I’m keeping it.”
    “No, you can’t, Laurette. We’re going to get rid of it, this time. The six of us are going to watch.”
    “You can’t get rid of it!” Then, abruptly, she snatched it off her finger. “Here!”
    Imperceptibly, he shrank back against the wall.
    “There’s no use transferring it now. You’ve got it, you might as well carry it.” His eyes swiveled, lighted with a sudden burst of inspiration. “Better yet, let Crow carry it. He represents the law. That would make it proper.”
    She seemed speechless.
    “Can you imagine it? Can you imagine a sniveling creature like him—I’ll keep the ring. First my father gets weak in the knees, and then—” She cast a disdainful look at Masters. “I wish you’d both leave me alone, please.”
    Tony shrugged, left the room, Masters edging out after him.
    Tony stopped him.
    “How much time have we got left?”
    Masters said jerkily, “We’ve been here fourteen days. It happens on the twenty-fifth. That’s eleven days from now, a few hours either way.”
    “How reliable are your