It wasn't that Kroll enjoyed watching the traitors broken in body and spirit. But why did they keep insisting they were innocent before-- The Inquisitor By Randall Garrett [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy December 1956 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] When Conway Kroll reached his office that morning, there were three prisoners waiting to be interrogated. He smiled coldly at the sight of them, standing in the large bare room awaiting their fate. "Good morning," he said, with steely politeness. "My name is Kroll. It is my job to conduct the interrogation to which you three will be subjected today." One of the three--a tall, youthful-looking man--glared up at him bitterly. "Interrogation? _Torture_, you mean!" Kroll brought his eyes to rest on the man who had spoken slowly, almost scornfully. "You have the wrong idea completely, my friend. It is necessary to persuade you to divulge certain facts. The State requires it of you. If you refuse--" He gestured sadly--"we must compel you. But you are all so determined to make things hard for us. I don't _want_ to hurt you, you know." "But you _will_ hurt us," said another of the prisoners. She was a girl, no more than twenty, slim and darkhaired. Even in the dreary prison garb, thought Kroll, she retained her beauty. "You're going to torture us!" Kroll shrugged: "I repeat: I don't want to." He looked at his watch. "Come; we are wasting time, and the Inquisitor is waiting. Miss Horniman, you must be first." The girl shrank back behind the bitter-eyed young man. The third prisoner, a resigned-looking, balding man of fifty or so, did not change his expression. "Take me first," the man said. "Leave her alone." Again Kroll shrugged. "The Inquisitor would like Miss Horniman first, Mr. Leslie. This is the preferred order, and this is the order that will be." A guard stepped forward and shoved the sobbing girl up and ahead, toward the door. The man named Leslie clashed his manacles impotently together and spat. "Butchers! Torturers!" "Please, Mr. Leslie," Kroll said gently, a pained expression on his face. "You make our job even harder than it is." * * * * * He followed the girl into the adjoining room, where the Inquisitor was waiting. The Interrogation Chamber was an immense rectangular room with concrete floor and bleak white walls, in the center of which stood the Inquisitor. "Good morning, Kroll," the Inquisitor said. Its metallic voice rattled and boomed in the big room. In the depths of the machine, relays clicked and hummed. Kroll bowed to it, and the Inquisitor responded with a gesture of a prolonged metal arm. "The first prisoner, Kroll."