"You lying rogue," Bemmelman shouted. "This has gone far enough. There's your Renegade, Commissioner." "Keep him quiet, Big Unse," said Cosmo softly, "until I finish. He can talk his head off then." Big Unse doubled his fist, shook it in Bemmelman's face. The planter subsided, but a cunning gleam winked in his little brown eyes. The Commissioner drew a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed at his forehead. He sank into a chair with a groan. "Talk fast, young man," he said. "And it had better be good." He eyed Cosmo with obvious distrust. Cosmo took a moisture-proof cigarette case from his pocket, snapped it open. "I realize, Commissioner, this must be quite a shock. Bemmelman's been powerful in politics. He has allies in high places. But when they learn he's the Renegade, they'll be the first to disown him." He took a cigarette out of the case, eyed it critically, put it back. "Even rats," he added, glancing up at the Commissioner, "have sense enough to leave a sinking ship." "Um," said the Commissioner. He looked discomfited, shot a sly glance at the manacled planter. Bemmelman started to roar a protest, but Big Unse grinned, shook his hammer-like fist in his face. "I'd better sketch in his background," said Cosmo judicially. "He was an organic chemist on Earth, but got involved in a forgery case. He next showed up smuggling Jovian primitives to Venus. The T.I.S. got on his trail, but they were never able to pin anything on him." "How do you know all this?" the Commissioner asked. "You don't need to take my word. It's all in the records. You can investigate them yourself." "Um," said the Commissioner again and dabbed at his forehead. He purposefully avoided Bemmelman's eye. Cosmo glanced at Mia who was regarding him in sheer amazement. He smiled at her, said: "Bemmelman figured it'd be safer to breed slaves here on Venus rather than run the risk of capture by the Empire's Patrol Spacers. But he found that land on Venus can't be bought except in rare cases." He paused, looked at the apoplectic slave breeder. "Bemmelman murdered my father having first provided himself with forged notes to the plantation. You'll remember, he was mixed up with a forgery case on Earth." "Wh-why," the Commissioner sputtered indignantly, "that's preposterous." "Here are the notes." Cosmo pulled two packets of papers from his pocket, tossed them to the Commissioner's lap. "You'll find notes for old MacIver's plantation there, too. Bemmelman had decided to grab it off too." The fat Commissioner examined them curiously. "They're good," said Cosmo. "But it won't be too hard to prove they're forgeries." The Commissioner rustled the papers. "But what's all this to do with the Renegade? I came out here to collar him, not rattle old bones." Cosmo pointed his right hand lazily at Natal, the Martian spy. It was the arm with the dart gun up its sleeve. Natal blanched. "Ask him," said Cosmo blandly. "He's one of the Renegade's men."