"I cannot tell you anything about them," Joan said monotonously. It was evident that this was not the first time she had said so. "Yes you can," the Mercutian said as softly as his gutturals would permit. "There is one in particular you know a great deal about. Urga told me. A long-lost lover, no?" His gray-ridged countenance contorted into a thick disgusting leer. "There it something mysterious about him. He has no identification tag; he releases Peabody; seems not to know the penalties. He has a pistol, a forbidden weapon; he dares to kill a Magnificent; he eggs on two others, ordinary Earth slaves to join him; he disappears out of sight, in spite of all search." He was shouting now, pounding the chair arm with complete loss of dignity. "Who is he, where does he come from, where did he go? Answer me?" The girl faced him boldly. "You are afraid of him, Viceroy," she challenged. "You fear his example. He has shown what a brave man can do; the Earth people will follow him. The Mercutians are not invulnerable." "Yes," the Viceroy said heavily. He was talking more to himself. Then he realized his mistake. "No, of course not," he growled hurriedly. "Enough of this. You tell me what I want to know or I call Urga in." Joan's face went white, but she faced him unflinchingly. "I do not know where he is, and if I did, I would not tell you." "Very well then." The Viceroy leaned over to the table. The slide was completely open now. "I wouldn't call anyone if I were you." * * * * * The Viceroy whirled in his chair at the sound of the calm Earth voice, calm yet deadly in its implications. He found himself staring into the stubby opening of an Earth automatic, a forbidden weapon. The hand that held it was steady, and the gray eyes that bored into his were hard as pebbles. There was a smothered gasp from Joan. "Hilary." "Yes; come to take you away." He spoke swiftly. "We have no time to waste, Joan. Is there any binding material in the room?" "I--I believe there is. Dad always kept odds and ends in the store chest near the bookshelves." "Go and get it then. We'll truss up his most Mercutian Magnificence--No you don't," Hilary said harshly; "keep your hands in front of you and don't move." The Viceroy was stealthily reaching for the sun-tube dangling from his belt. He jerked his hand back, a cold sweat beading his forehead. Hilary's finger had compressed on the trigger; the slightest extra pressure meant flaming death. "That's better," Hilary approved. "You shall pay for this," howled the Mercutian, finding voice again. "You shall suffer a hundred deaths in one." "Softly," Hilary grinned. "Just a little while ago you were very anxious to meet me. Now that I'm here you don't seem overmuch pleased." Joan was rummaging frantically in the open chest. The Viceroy started, his unlidded pink eyes opened wider. But he was careful to keep his hands in plain view. "You are the Earth dog who killed the Magnificents."