"What? Oh, come now, Meacher! Of course you do. I appreciate the information you gave me on Morris. The reward I promised you will be waiting at the State Hall tomorrow. A thousand credits, wasn't it? Well, come and claim it--" He chuckled stridently--"if you can." Before the quick suspicion rising in the eyes of the comrades he had betrayed, Meacher quailed. He tugged free of Shaughnessey's hand and scampered to the protection of Garroway's guard. His voice bleated shrill remonstrance. "Sire ... you should not have told them! I served you faithfully and well ... wormed my way into their inner council! Were it not for me you would never have known--" Black Garroway avoided the informer's frenzied clawing. His voice was hard, mocking, contemptuous. "Fool! You brought me no information worth hearing! Through my own efforts I discovered Townsend's instrument and solved its secret. You are a dolt, a stupid bungler! I need no such aides." "But I told you Morris held the Secret--" "Bah! There is no longer a secret to be held." "But there is, Sire! Before he died, Morris told it to--" Hardesty interrupted coldly, "Am I to understand, Garroway, that this man is no longer under your protection?" Garroway shrugged. "I have washed my hands of him," he said carelessly. "Come, guards!" He turned away as Meacher screamed, vainly struggled to escape the vengeful trio closing in on him. "Take him, Vurrth!" ordered Hardesty succinctly. The great Venusian's hands closed briefly around the traitor's throat, stifling his garbled cries. With revealing ease he lifted the Earthman, held him dangling like a sack of meal in midair, and looked at Hardesty for orders. "Put him down," commanded Neil. "We will settle our differences elsewhere." Vurrth grunted, and obediently loosed his grip. The body, of Fred Meacher slumped to the floor awkwardly ... and lay still. Brian Shaughnessey bent over the crumpled figure. He glared up angrily at his comrade. "Confound you, Vurrth! He's dead!" Vurrth grinned slowly. "Sor-ree," he said. "Maybe hold too tight?" One of the guards, glancing back, muttered a word to his captain who, in turn, passed the message to the Overlord. A thin smile touched Garroway's lips, but he did not turn his head. The incident was, his attitude intimated as he led his entourage from the hall, a matter in which he took no concern whatsoever.... II As at his captors' bidding he stepped into the great metal chamber which was the late Dr. Townsend's creation, two singular emotions filled Dirk Morris' mind. One of these was thankfulness, the second ... curiosity. Fear was strangely absent. Perhaps that was because for many months Dirk and those with whom he conspired for the overthrow of Black Garroway's tyrannical rule had lived under a Damoclean sword. Death, long a silent guest at their every gathering, was a host whose imminence aroused no dread.