After freshening up and trying the food, Walther felt much better. He was a strong-nerved young man, not accustomed to worry, and he tried to weigh the facts for and against him. If the shipments had gone off without a hitch, things might not be so bad. He'd been found leaving the vaults, but no one would suppose that he'd have stayed around after somehow disposing of the books. They might suspect him, but it would be hard to disprove his story that he'd taken the elevator by mistake the day before and been trapped overnight. Anyway, as a visitor from another galaxy, he was entitled to certain consideration. He felt even better when the door opened late in the afternoon to admit Willy Fritsh and a tight-lipped man of about forty. "Your lawyer," said Willy. He looked and sounded grim. After completing introductions, Willy told him that he was indeed accused of the theft, and would be arraigned in the morning. "They can't prove it," Walther answered calmly. "They think they can. Our Digester friend--remember our Bohemian evening?--has come forward to accuse you. He'll testify about the offer we made him." "We? Will he accuse you, too?" "Not exactly. I'm supposed to be an innocent bystander. A friend who was used!" In spite of the circumstances, a hint of the old sparkle returned to Willy's eyes and he smiled faintly. "What can they do about it?" Walther demanded. After all, he was a Von Koenigsburg. Willy's smile vanished. "Our legal friend here says ten years would be a light sentence." They discussed the case for an hour, while the lawyer took meticulous notes. Then, through Willy, the attorney began questioning Walther about his financial status. Even in the language of consonants, his voice was suave. The lawyer's precise little symbols wavered as Walther briefly outlined his family circumstances, but a servo-robot opened the door before further questions could be asked. Willy started to shake hands with Walther, then impulsively put his arms around him. There were tears in the corners of his blue eyes. He tried to say something, but gave it up and hurried out the door behind the attorney. "Wait." Walther called after him. "Have you heard anything from Maria?" Willy sadly shook his head. "No. Nothing." Walther had scarcely finished breakfast next morning when a servo-robot came to take him to court. The robot linked thumb and forefinger around Walther's wrist with the grip of a handcuff. There were no spectators in the courtroom; perhaps, Walther thought glumly, because it was a free attraction that would interfere with the consumption of happy time entertainment. Willy joined him at the defendants table. "Still the loyal, misguided friend," Willy murmured. "I volunteered to be your interpreter."