"You mean they won't dissolve?" asked Webster. A look of hope entered his eyes. "Will it work for whiskey too?" Bill shook his head. "Afraid not," he said. "You see I did a lot of freebooting in chemistry when I worked for the Fuel Monopoly. I discovered you could hydrate etheroel the same as you hydrate diethyl ether. You just evaporate etheroel on thick blotting paper, subject it to a temperature of twenty-six degrees Fahrenheit and it becomes solid. We'll have Earthmen or Martians handle that operation. After it's solid, it won't harm the Uvans. They'll be able to ship it out. We'll dehydrate on some clearing planetoid." "Excellent! Excellent!" * * * * * Bill whirled around at the first sound of the voice coming from the doorway. He saw Castlebottom standing there and behind him, three armed Space Patrolmen. There was a very satisfied smirk on Castlebottom's lips and a very efficient look about the Patrolmen. "Excellent thought," Castlebottom said in his most administrative manner, "The Fuel Monopoly appreciated what you've done to recover the Uvan etheroel supply. We'll send you a medal--in jail! Very lucky I overheard you." He signalled the patrolmen. "All right, men, arrest him for smuggling caviar, kidnapping me and my fiancé. You might tack on a few other charges. Anything will do." There was a little cry as Kitty threw her arms around Bill and glared at Castlebottom. "You can't arrest him. Look what he's done." "Hah!" grunted Castlebottom, rubbing his fingers over the ham-slice folds of his neck where the pillory clamps had fitted too tightly. "He hasn't got a foot to stand on. That is what comes of freebooting. He's already given us the answer on how to save the etheroel. We'll do it ourselves. We don't need him." "Please," Kitty pleaded. "Do you really mean that?" said Bill. He held Kitty's cheeks in his hands, turning her face up toward his. "I guess you do," he murmured. Suddenly he pushed Kitty aside and stepped toward Castlebottom. "Well, maybe you win," he said slowly. "But if you're going to arrest me, do me a favor. Hold your chin out like ... ah...." Castlebottom thrust his chin forward. "Glad you're sensible about this," he said. "You mean, hold it like this?" "That's right--perfect," exclaimed Bill. Castlebottom's chin was tilted just right. Bill's arm suddenly went back, coiled, then shot forward with the speed and stroke of a precisely ground piston. There was a flabby crack of soft flesh being struck by harder flesh and knuckles. A kind of foolish look crossed Castlebottom's face for an instant, then he folded up like a deflated balloon. One of the Patrolmen caught him just as he hit the floor. "That," said Bill as he licked his knuckles, "Is something I've always wanted to do." A look of horror flashed in Kitty Carlton's eyes and she lifted a small hand to her lips. "Bill," she cried. "You shouldn't have. There's a twenty year sentence for striking a commissioner."