"Very well," he said. "Court will convene in five minutes." He turned so abruptly that he almost bumped into the Bailiff, who was making a poor effort to cover his disappointment. Sir Mallory smiled at Jacques, and said warmly: "The FBIT is proud of you!" When they had left the room, the still frightened squire stuttered: "S-shall we d-dress, Sire?" Jacques walked without answering to the couch and sat down on the edge of it. "Get a move on!" he ordered. His feelings were in turmoil: He was desperately eager to see this Lady Ann, yet he dreaded the moment. If this was the Ann.... Fingers trembling, the squire anointed each muscular shoulder with three drops of perfumed oil, after which he drew over Jacques' head and upper body the white tunic--white to symbolize the purity of motive in entering the execution arena. Next came the black breeches and hose--black for the eternal remembrance of death. Over the tunic came the flaming red jupon, blazoned on the sleeves with gules and on the back with a lion rampant argent. On his left shoulder, the squire fixed a lace of white silk, representing a deed not yet accomplished. Following the execution, a woman who had won the honor in her plant lottery would cut it off. After lacing on Jacques' boots, the squire stepped back, snatching an instant to admire his handiwork. "Well done, Squire," said Jacques. "Now, let's be off!" The squire flushed and beamed in gratitude. He picked up the silver case containing the two Pistolet du Mort, one for Jacques, one for the condemned person. * * * * * Court was on a portable platform in the center of the Judicial Arena. As soon as the execution was confirmed, it would be wheeled out of the way. When Jacques stepped from the tunnel and strode toward the platform, an abrupt hush choked off the babbling and laughter in the stands. Most of the hundred thousand capacity crowd was already seated. Behind Jacques, the squire straightened his narrow shoulders with pride. This was the highpoint in a life spent among the tapes, circuits and feedback problems of computer research. Jacques mounted the platform, bowed to the crowd and took his seat in the black-draped, carved oak chair to the left of the Bailiff. His squire stood proudly behind him. The Bailiff murmured: "An imposing entrance for one who had only five minutes to dress! Your fair victim isn't here yet." Jacques stonily ignored him. An explosive cry from the stands brought the Bailiff to his feet. "Here she comes!" he announced with a grin of anticipation. "Take a good look, Sir Jacques--it's worth while!" Though it was the hardest thing he had ever done, Jacques refrained from looking until the woman and her two jailers had nearly reached the platform steps.