Donovan vented his hostility by hauling the guy out to the car. Dalrymple made no resistance but Donovan managed to get mildly rough regardless. This also seemed to make the little intruder happy. As though he took the roughness as a sign he'd got under Donovan's skin too. Which he had. He threw a few insults at us while we rode to headquarters but we held in, knowing if we gave ourselves an inch we'd take a mile and slug him and have it over with. In the interrogation room we went at him with all the fixings. A strong light in his eyes--cigarette smoke in his face. Donovan, with a snarl on his puss said, "All right, buster. Let's cut out the jokes. What were you doing in that tavern?" "Reading the gas meter." "I said cut out the jokes." "You've got my identification. What makes you think I had any other reason for going there?" "I'll ask the questions. Maybe you don't realize what a spot you're in." "This is idiotic. This whole procedure emanates from your personal dislike of me. All you have to do is call the company." "What do you know about the Davis killing?" "Only what I heard in the neighborhood. Intriguing little equation, isn't it?" I think we'd realized from the beginning that we had nothing on Dalrymple and that we wouldn't be able to involve him. He'd hit it on the nose when he said our motivation was personal dislike. Finally I went out and called the gas company, realizing we'd delayed doing this because we knew it would lose Dalrymple for us. When I went back and told Donovan, he still hated to let go. "You know," he told the sneering little meter-reader, "we can still throw you in the can." "What for?" "Trespassing, Breaking and entering." "Oh, yes. But you won't." "And why not?" "Because it would be too small a triumph and you know you would be acting from spite. It would diminish your stature in your own eyes." Donovan was trying to swallow his helpless wrath when I remembered something Dalrymple had said. "Listen, punk. Exactly where did you come from?" "That's right. You made some funny cracks. You said, to quote, 'This is certainly a stupid world you live in. A world of idiots.' You also said, 'I've just arrived recently.' Now it occurs to me--" "That I might have come from a place beyond this planet you call Earth?" "No. That you're a crackpot--a psycho--and maybe we'd _better_ hold you." He sneered at me and ticked off his replies on his fingers. "I did come from a world far away from yours. I'm not a crackpot--not a psycho. And you will not hold me." I looked at Donovan. Donovan looked at me. His voice gentled into a tone of soft contempt. "Just where _do_ you come from, punk?" "From Arva Majoris and don't bother looking it up. It's a planet in a galaxy beyond the conception of your most brilliant minds. And I use the term _brilliant_ very loosely." "And how did you get here?"