at weekly intervals, dr. morton "did" the desert sands; frankland's paradise; the martian gardens; and the two moons club. from each owner he extracted the same promise—to vote against the fireworks at the council meetings.

the technique was settling down to a routine. each victim came, made the promise, paid for the following week's ad, named the next casino, and was taken on a tour of the observatory. then disaster struck.

it took the form of an interplanetary telegram from harvard observatory, their parent organization. it read:

earth newspapers carrying accounts of horoscopes published by your organization very unscientific must stop at once find other solution

l k bell director

dr. morton was eating alone in the staff dining room when he noticed a familiar face beside him. "harvey," he said. "guess you've come down to gloat over our misfortune."

"no, professor," said harvey. "you've got my promise to help you boys and i'll stick by you. it's a rotten shame, too. you just about made it. the rest of the club owners saw the writing on the wall and were going to cooperate with you when the telegram came. all of us got contacts in the telegraph office, so they heard about it soon as it arrived and stayed away."

dr. morton said, "yes, i supposed they would. there's not much we can do now."

"there are thirteen members on the council." harvey continued, "and you've got five of us. if that telegram had only come one day later—no more fireworks. but i got an idea."

dr. morton pushed aside his empty coffee cup and stood up. "let's get out in the fresh air."

the town council was adding insult to injury by staging one of the biggest fireworks displays ever. it consisted of practically all skyrockets. dr. morton expressed wonder at their supply; harvey explained that they were made right on mars. he went on to tell his idea.

"i was real interested in everything when you took me around the first time i was here," the gambler said. "the same goes for the other boys who saw the place. most of us meant to come out here and look around sometime, but you people work nights and, us mostly working nights, too, we never got around to it. how about arranging an exclusive tour sometime just for the club operators and their help? then when they see everything, you could offer to name a star after them or something. if i hadn't already promised, i'd be willing to promise, just to be able to point in the sky and say 'that's harvey's star.'"

dr. morton smiled gently. "that's a wonderful idea," he said, "but i don't think it would work. any stars worth looking at with the naked eye already have names. the only ones we could name after people are so far away that, it would take an exposure of several hours, just to see them on a photographic plate. you wouldn't be able to point yours out at all. besides, harvard observatory wouldn't stand for this idea either. it would make as much sense to them as you naming a poker chip after me."

he sighed. "but, in any case, we would like to have all the owners over some time. it might improve relations somewhat." the two of them watched a rocket wobble all over the sky before exploding.

"let's go back inside," said the physicist. "maybe we can arrange that tour for sunday."