I recovered my balance. "Try to milk me of a hundred grand when there's been no crime?" I snapped. "I'll say there's been an error! If I weren't a forgiving man, I'd clap the bunch of you in jail for attempting to defraud an Earthman! Get out of here! And take that would-be murderer with you!" They got, and they got fast, burbling apologies as they went. They had tried to fox an Earthman, and that's a dangerous sport. They dragged the cocooned form of the Stortulian with them. The air seemed to clear, and peace was restored. I signaled to Auchinleck and he slammed the door. "All right." I looked at Gorb and jerked a thumb at the Kallerian. "That's a nice trick. How does it work?" * * * * * Gorb smiled pleasantly. He was enjoying this, I could see. "Kallerians of the Clan Gursdrinn specialize in a kind of mental discipline, Corrigan. It isn't too widely known in this area of the Galaxy, but men of that clan have unusual mental control over their bodies. They can cut off circulation and nervous-system response in large chunks of their bodies for hours at a stretch--an absolutely perfect imitation of death. And, of course, when Heraal put the sword through himself, it was a simple matter to avoid hitting any vital organs en route." The Kallerian, still at gunpoint, hung his head in shame. I turned on him. "So--try to swindle me, eh? You cooked this whole fake suicide up in collusion with those cops." He looked quite a sight, with that gaping slash running clear through his body. But the wound had begun to heal already. "I regret the incident, Earthman. I am mortified. Be good enough to destroy this unworthy person." It was a tempting idea, but a notion was forming in my showman's mind. "No, I won't destroy you. Tell me--how often can you do that trick?" "The tissues will regenerate in a few hours." "Would you mind having to kill yourself every day, Heraal? And twice on Sundays?" Heraal looked doubtful. "Well, for the honor of my Clan, perhaps--" Stebbins said, "Boss, you mean--" "Shut up. Heraal, you're hired--$75 a week plus expenses. Stebbins, get me a contract form--and type in a clause requiring Heraal to perform his suicide stunt at least five but no more than eight times a week." I felt a satisfied glow. There's nothing more pleasing than to turn a swindle into a sure-fire crowd-puller. "Aren't you forgetting something, Corrigan?" asked Ildwar Gorb in a quietly menacing voice. "We had a little agreement, you know." "Oh. Yes." I moistened my lips and glanced shiftily around the office. There had been too many witnesses. I couldn't back down. I had no choice but to write out a check for five grand and give Gorb a standard alien-specimen contract. Unless.... "Just a second," I said. "To enter Earth as an alien exhibit, you need proof of alien origin."