"Were you guarding the jail too?" chuckled Paul. "Fast man, no?" "You came in a taxicab the first time." "Ah yes. But that was years ago before people knew of my brilliance, importance, and high station. Now--" "Years ago, my eye. Less than fifteen minutes ago--" "I did not." "You did." "Not me." Paul's feeling of airy well-being came down a few thousand feet and mired in a cumulus cloud. "Look, Grayson, you came in a taxicab and breezed in here about fifteen minutes ago as though you had only a minute to spare." "You're thinking of someone else." "Your picture said Paul Grayson, and so did your identification. How else would I be knowing you?" "You've seen me often enough." "Maybe. But don't forget that I see a few thousand people every day. And I know you only well enough to know that you do own bona fide credentials. You've got 'em?" "I--" Paul blinked. A great searing light was starting to cut through the cobwebs of his brain. The airy feeling of well-being dropped below the cumulus cloud and made a one-point landing on strictly solid ground. "Look," he said soberly. "You claim a man came through here a few minutes ago, resembling me?" "Unless you ain't who you are, he was you." "He wasn't me. My papers were stolen less than an hour ago. He must have--" The guard was no imbecile. He turned in a flash and hit a button on the desk beside him. An alarm bell rang in some inner room and four more guards came tumbling out of a doorway, alert and ready for trouble. "Tommy," snapped the guard at the door, "Go check Paul Grayson's ship, that's number--" "BurAst 33-P.G.1." The guard looked at Paul carefully. "You're a dead ringer for the other guy that came through here," he said. "But you happen to know Paul Grayson's BurAst number. Anybody could memorize it." Paul watched the other guards tumble out of the building and head off across the spaceport on a dead run, drawing pistols as they went. He started to follow them. The guard barred his way. "No you don't!" "But that guy is stealing--" "Maybe your name is Grayson and maybe the other guy is Grayson. You look alike and he had identification. I don't know Paul Grayson well enough to accept or deny you--or him. But until you show me credentials entitling you to roam this spaceport, you stay outside!" "But--" "The boys I sent out there are capable. Don't get in their way. They might shoot the wrong Paul Grayson." "But--" "Get your credentials. Get some sort of identification." Paul looked at the big standard clock on the wall. "But I've got less than eight minutes until take-off time." "There's always tomorrow. You'll get cleared first or no entry! And that's final." "Hell's Eternal Bells!" exploded Paul. "The cops that brought me here did so because I was clipped on the bean and robbed."