The Imperator waved his hand negligently. "I'll admit that you displayed ingenuity in hiding from the police," he said, "and you have a certain amount of animal-like adaptation to danger. But when you fought it was only with the desperation of a cornered rat! Your most noteworthy trait is subterfuge. I despise a gutless man!" "Does it take guts to boast of your strength while hiding behind a palace guard?" Ostby asked. For the time it took an incredulous expression to cross his face Magogar sat still, not believing what he had heard. No one spoke to him like that! He straightened and turned to face Ostby full on. "Will you repeat that?" he asked, the words half strangling in his throat. "You heard me correctly," Ostby said, seating himself deliberately and insolently in a chair that faced the Imperator across a heavy wooden table. He had thrown the gauntlet. Now to strike hard at the twisted core of pride that bent the Imperator to fit its ruthlessness. "You boasted that you were the strongest man in the world, physically and mentally. You're wrong on both considerations. Mentally you are weak, with a sick and rotten pride that warps your mind. I believe you're even a bit insane." The Imperator rose to his feet. Muscles bunched in hard straight lines along the ridges of his jaw, and the flanges of his nose were white with suppressed rage. Ostby went inexorably on. "Physically you've passed your prime. Soft living has coated your muscles with fat, and fat girds your middle. You...." "You've said enough," the Imperator interrupted. He reached toward a bell resting on the table between them. "Wait!" Ostby stopped him with the word. "What is the strong man going to do? Ring for his men to help him? Are you a coward as well as a braggart?" Ostby could see his words strike like blows. The Imperator, his eyes wide open, wicked and quiet, sat down purposefully. Oddly he seemed to have recovered his self-control. "Pull your chair up to the table," he said. "We will see where the strength lies." This was the moment! Now, Ostby reflected, if only he hadn't overestimated himself. With the thought came a tinge of doubt. Perhaps he would find that he was governed by the same false pride of which he had accused Magogar. He followed the Imperator's example and laid his left arm flat on the table. Their left hands made contact. They rested their right elbows, their arms forming an elevated triangle, with the table's surface as the third side. They gripped right hands, each large and powerful. Ostby hoped that he had the sheer animal strength to cope with the Imperator's extra hundred pounds of weight.