"A myth, a shadow," she explained. "Some poor romantic fool we hired to play at pirate. He serves as the herring to draw across the train of Dallis here and others who really do the pirate's work." "You _hired_ him?" Thorne was frankly startled. "Of course. He was sailing to and fro in a cape and mask, cutting out single ships, raiding mining camps, playing Robin Hood. But he was colorful and had made a reputation for chivalry we needed. We bought it. He continues these daring raids as before, robbing the rich and helping the weak, covering the real attacks by unknown pirates who leave no trace." "Me," said Dallis, softly. "No trace at all, Thorne." "Others cash in on the exploits," she admitted. "But it is Tom who pays him. A good investment, all considered." "To show up the Planet Patrol?" wondered Thorne. "An investment in obstruction." He looked at her with dawning comprehension. "I begin to see," he added, slowly. "Those telecasts ... your work?" She smiled. "Of course. One of my first. I bought into a cheap little movie company and put out the first blood and rocket melodrama." A laugh bubbled to her red lips. "It made money. We expanded and started the whole cycle years ahead of its normal course. We still make money." "You seem to have it all worked out," he said. "A normally apathetic public, soothed by a whole cycle of propaganda telecasts, a finger in the heart of the Planet Patrol, an honest, open business that takes you anywhere in the System, and a masked front man to take credit for the whole witches brew." He laughed shortly. "I suppose I can guess what will happen. Once you have the ransom you go respectable for good, leaving the unfortunate Chain Lucas to cover your trail and take the blame." Both Dallis and Iris laughed, a merry, discordant jangle. "Perhaps," said the man, rising to stand over Thorne. "But enough of Lucas. What of you?" "How much?" "Who knows how much you have?" Dallis ground out. "Set up half for us and you go free. We know half will be ample for any need." "Then free these others," Thorne argued. "Their ransoms will be unnecessary." "Nonsense." Iris rose and stood over Thorne, her breast heaving. "Ransoms for all, or there may be suspicion. The Council may pay mine," she added contemptuously. * * * * * Thorne did not laugh or move. Looking beyond the precious pair, at the heavy merchantman Dallis had turned into a raider, he sat amazed beyond speech as it slowly, silently fell away from the liner's airlocks and drifted off to starboard, its black sides crumpling visibly. A lifeboat, spurting from its little lock, snapped and broke as a violet ray from some unseen vessel above the liner cut it down. The pirate crew were trapped aboard and died there in soundless fury. The few aboard the liner were cut off from any retreat.