Van Emmon looked disappointed.  “In that case she would be blistering hot on one side and freezing cold on the other; except,” remembering Mercury, “except for the ‘twilight zone,’ where the climate would be neither one nor the other, but temperate.”  He pointed to the line down the middle of the disk before them, the line which divided the lighted from the unlighted, the day from the night.

The four looked more intently.  It should be remembered that the very brilliance of Venus has always hindered the astronomers; the planet as a whole is always very conspicuous but its very glare makes it impossible to see any details.  The surface has always seemed to be covered by a veil of hazy, faintly streaked vapor.

Smith gave a queer exclamation.  For a moment or two he stared hard at the planet; then looked up with an apologetic grin.

“I had a foolish idea.  I thought—­” He checked himself.  “Say, doesn’t Venus remind you of something?”

The doctor slowly shook his head.  “Can’t say that it does, Smith.  I have always considered Venus as having an appearance peculiarly her own.  Why?”

The engineer started to answer, stopped, thought better of it, and instead pointed out the half that was in shadow.  “Why is it that we can make out the black portion so easily?”

Kinney could answer this.  “The fact is, it isn’t really black at all, but faintly lighted.  Presumably it is star-shine.”

“Star-shine!” echoed the architect, interested.

“Just that.  You see,” finished the doctor, “if that side is never turned toward the sun, then it must be covered with ice, which would reflect the star—­”

“Ah!” exclaimed Smith with satisfaction.  “I wasn’t so crazy after all!  My notion was that the whole blamed thing is covered with ice!”

It looked reasonable.  Certainly the entire sphere had a somewhat watery appearance.  It prompted the geologist to say: 

“Kinney—­if that reflection is really due to ice, then there must be plenty of water vapor in the air.  And if that’s the case—­”

“Not only is life entirely possible,” stated the doctor quietly, “but I’ll bet you this sky-car against an abandoned soap-stone mine that we find humans, or near-human beings there when we land tomorrow!”

II

SPEAKING OF VENUS

The architect was still dressed in the fashionably cut suit of men’s clothes she had worn while in the car.  Van Emmon thought of this when he said, somewhat awkwardly: 

“Well, I’m going to fix something to eat.  It’ll be ready in half an hour, Miss—­er—­Jackson.”

She looked at him, slightly puzzled; then understood.  “You mean to give me time to change my clothes?  Thanks; but I’m used to these.  And besides,” with spirit, “I never could see why women couldn’t wear what they choose, so long as it is decent.”