Introductions were performed on the way to another grove lanced with searchlights. A photographer was busy over the body of a middle-aged man. "Some folks you can't tell anything," Scott said, "and especially when they're in heat. We never had any complaints about this guy, but we knew what he was. I myself told him that someday he would pick up the wrong man. "And he sure did this time," he added unnecessarily. Corporal Forester squatted beside the body. "He was kneeling, grabbed by his long hair, head pulled back, one good slash did the rest." "Real nice slash," General Mosby agreed professionally. "I'd like to show that to some of my men." He pushed the head back so that the cut across the throat was more clearly visible. "Just one swipe." "Clarens was a pre-med student," Thornberry stated. Bennington noticed that his psych-expert had kept his gaze fixed on the trees after a glance at the body. "No idea where he went from here, of course?" Mosby asked. "None," Scott admitted, "but I've got patrols out." "I've got another battalion upstairs," Mosby remarked, jabbing toward the stars with his thumb, "and the rest of the regiment on the way. "You know this town. Tell me how you want them distributed." "I'd like to." Scott meditated a moment. "But, I can't. I can't even swear them in. They're Federal troops." "I've just declared martial law," Governor Willoughby emerged from the shadows. "Thanks, sir." Scott looked like a man with a weight taken from his shoulders. "We'll need cars, of course." "But we can stop them on the streets. Then have our men drive them home. With your help, General Mosby, we can cover this town like a blanket." But the blanket was too late to stop the second murder. * * * * * The report came in after they had talked to Dalton. "That's why I gave myself up," the convict said. "I wanted no part of that guy, so I figured my best alibi was a nice, quiet cell." "How is Clarens dressed?" Scott demanded. "He picked a double-breasted blue suit from the racks in the truck. Fitted him good, too." Scott strode into the next room and through the open door Bennington saw the Chief of Police pick up a mike. "This is important." Thornberry, intent, looking like a lean hound on a hot trail. "_What were you told when you were conditioned?_" "I don't remember." Dalton was plainly baffled. "I just don't remember. Something about when a guy threw his tray.... You got me, I don't know." "All right." The psychologist tried another tack. "What made you leave the others and take Clarens with you?" "I didn't take him with me." Dalton's voice was weary, edged with anger. "I remember sitting down under the hypno-hood in The Cage. From there on, things are mixed up. I think there was running and yelling and that I ran and yelled, too. "Then I came to and I was in a building with a lot of guys grabbing guns."