"I'm afraid that's some of the trouble I mentioned," O'Toole replied. "I told you Wade is stirring up a pack of trouble and I'm afraid you're dropping right into the middle of it." He held the knife out toward Blake and the younger man took it. "My brother must have changed a lot since I saw him last. Ten years ago he spent most of his time playing the violin and raising flowers." "Still does," O'Toole answered in a far-off voice. "But he has a few other hobbies now. Games that he's learned to play too well for his own good." Blake was studying the knife that had missed his head. He ran a thumb lightly over the razor edge of the weapon. "Games that you play with knives?" O'Toole nodded. "Unless I'm greatly mistaken," he answered grimly. "That nice little fellow who tossed the bread knife at you is one of Grudge Harror's play boys." "Now," Blake said, "we're getting some place. Who is Grudge Harror and what's he got against Wade?" "I'll try to tell you what I know of Harror while we're on our way to make that next mono-train," O'Toole said. He took another quick glance at his watch. "She pulls out in half an hour, so keep away from lights and let's get to the station before we miss her." * * * * * They went out of the fenced space-field, bending double against the storm. For several minutes O'Toole led Jeff Blake through deserted streets. Reaching the lighted dome that was the Hope Mono-Terminal, he explained. "Grudge Harror," he said, "is the leader of a gang of cut-throats who have been holding up and wrecking trains from here to the border. He's got Walter Ferrell on the verge of bankruptcy. If something doesn't happen soon to stop him, the Hope to Horn[A] line will fold up like a busted space-kite." "And Wade?" Blake questioned. "Where does he fit in the picture?" "Ferrell depended on Wade to track Harror down and tear his gang apart. You mentioned that Wade liked to raise flowers. Well! Thus far, he's still at it. So for six months Harror has torn the business apart, train by train." Blake looked through the great entrance into the warmly lighted Mono-Terminal. It was nearly deserted. "It's a rotten shame that a cheap bunch of punks have spoiled a business as fine as Walter Ferrell's mono line," he said slowly. "It looks as though he has picked the wrong man for the job of getting Grudge Harror. Maybe we can do something about it." Holly O'Toole whacked him heartily across the back. "I knew you'd say that, Jeff." Something of the old fight was coming back into the Irishman's eyes. "I'll admit I'm stumped, but maybe with your help...." * * * * * The mammoth dome of Hope's mono terminal was glowing warmly under a rainbow of fluorescent light, when Blake and O'Toole entered the rotunda. Crowds jostled toward the open gates that led to the V-Gaps that held the single-tracked mono train upright when they were at the station docks.