I cocked my head, listening. Ommodurad had stopped talking and another voice said something. Then there was a heavy thump, the clump of feet, and a metallic sound. After a moment the Great Owner's voice came again ... and the other voice answered. I stretched, grabbed the edge of the opening, and pulled myself up. I leaned forward, got a leg up, and rolled silently onto the rough floor. Feeling my way, I crawled, felt a wall rising, followed it, turned a corner.... The voices were louder, quite suddenly. I saw why: there was a ventilating register ahead, gridded light gleaming through it. I crept along to the opening, lay flat, peered through it and saw three men. Ommodurad was standing with his back to me, a giant figure swathed to the eyes in purple robes. Beside him a lean red-head with a leg that had been broken and badly set stood round-shouldered, clutching a rod of office. The third man was Foster. * * * * * Foster stood, legs braced apart as though to withstand an earthquake, hands manacled before him. He looked steadily at the red-head, like a man marking a tree for cutting. "I know nothing of these crimes," he said. Ommodurad turned, swept out of sight. The red-head motioned. Foster turned away, moving stiffly, passed from my view. I heard a door open and close. I lay where I was and tried to sort out half a dozen conflicting impulses that clamored for attention. I finally decided it might do some good to gather more information. It had been bad luck that I had arrived at my peephole a few minutes too late to hear what the interview had been all about. But I might still make use of my strategic advantage. I felt over the register, found fasteners at the corners. They lifted easily and the metal grating tilted back into my hands. I laid it aside, poked my head out. The room was empty, as far as I could see. It was time to take a few chances. I reversed my position, let my legs through the opening, and dropped softly to the floor. I reached back up and managed to prop the grating in position--just in case. It was a fancy chamber, hung in purple and furnished for a king. I poked through the pigeon-holes of a secretary, opened a few cupboards, peered under the bed. It looked like I wasn't going to find any useful clues lying around loose. I went to the glass doors to the balcony, unlocked one and left it ajar--in case I wanted to leave in a hurry. There was another door across the room. I went over and tried it: locked. That gave me something definite to look for: a key. I rummaged some more in the secretary, then tried the drawer in a small table beside a broad couch and came up with a nice little steel key that looked like maybe.... I tried it. It was. Luck was still coming my way. I pushed open the door, saw a dark room beyond. I felt for a light switch, flicked it on, pushed the door shut behind me. * * * * *