Only once had he seen one of them mistreated. That was at a dinner the night before. The banquet hall had been a combination of medieval, modern, and Brons' splendor. The dishes, the food, and the music had been superb. But a fair-skinned girl had spilled a few drops of wine when she was serving Grim Hagen. His face had grown dark. Half arising from his high-backed chair at the head of the table, he had doubled up his fist and struck her below the cheek-bone. She reeled back, her face crimsoning from the blow and the shame. The other servants pretended to see nothing. But in the girl's eyes and in the eyes of the others he saw the old promise that had been written in the eyes of slaves since time began: "Some Day! Some Day!" Then, with perfect calm, Grim Hagen had sat down, wiping his lips with a lacy napkin. "Pardon me, gentlemen, but they have so much to learn in so short a time." Then he looked down the long table at Odin and could not resist one gibe. "You don't know how happy I was to find that these planets were peopled by a light-skinned race." * * * * * That was all. True to his promise, Grim Hagen had given them the run of the city. But there was always one of Hagen's men or some native in uniform to politely assure them that there was little to see down the off streets. The main squares were a tourist's paradise. Beautiful buildings--in all colors and styles, black marble and silver. Tracings of gold. Clocks, bells, statues, fountains. All the architecture of the world they had left, with fine selections and matching, with daring improvisations. And everything new. Odin had to admit that the squares were beautiful. Some day this conquered race might even owe a debt to Grim Hagen and his crew. But right now they did not seem to be bubbling over. The natives were polite--too meek for comfort. Some of the women were beautiful; most of the men were too slight of build, almost effeminate. But once Jack Odin and Gunnar managed to stroll down a narrow street without anyone noticing them. It was the cry of the birds that caused them to turn aside into even a narrower one. So they came to a little run-down park that looked old enough to have survived the conquest. Then they saw the scaffoldings. And there were twelve shapes hanging from ropes and meat-hooks. As they neared, a flock of fat revolting-looking birds arose and complained as they fluttered away. Gunnar and Odin had stood there looking up at the half-dried mummies that swung slowly about and grimaced at the tiny wind that perplexed them. The gibbets were spotted with blood and filth. Flies swarmed about them. "So," Gunnar remarked. "The leopard does not change his spots. Grim Hagen still gives lessons to these people. And knowing Grim Hagen I would say he is a rough schoolmaster." They did not stay long. And a guard opened his mouth in surprise when he saw them entering the square from the dark, little street.