"Miss Florence Horniman," Kroll said. "Accused of treason against the State. Denies charge." "How do you plead?" the machine asked coldly. "Not guilty," stammered the girl. Two huge metal arms extended from the Inquisitor's sides and folded around her. They drew her across the room to the bosom of the robot. "Feed in the data, Kroll." At the signal, Kroll slipped in the tape on the girl. A moment passed while the Inquisitor digested the data, and then: "The plea of not guilty is rejected as invalid." "You can't just do that!" the girl said. "That's my plea!" "Not valid in view of the evidence," said the Inquisitor. Kroll smiled distantly. He had seen this scene repeated, over and over, almost every day for the ten years he had held the post. He wrapped his blue-and-gold Interrogator's cloak around himself impressively and stepped forward. "You are accused of treason against the State," Kroll said sonorously. "But it is my duty to inform you that your sentence may be mitigated upon your delivering us certain information--about leaders of your movement, future plans, location of your party cell, and so forth." Florence Horniman's eyes flashed brightly. "I won't tell you anything!" "Perhaps I did not make myself clear," Kroll said. He repeated his offer. "The answer is still no!" Kroll sighed. "Very well," he said. A third hand slid from the Inquisitor's body and a needle-thin finger traced a line down the girl's bare arm. A bloody trickle appeared. She began to sob again. Kroll stepped closer and lifted her head. "Why must you hold out?" he asked. "Why don't you speak?" Still silence. The finger rose again and sliced lightly across her cheek. * * * * * "All right, take her away," Kroll said when twenty minutes had passed. The Inquisitor was humming merrily, busily taping the data that had been extracted from the girl and feeding it to the main computers downstairs. They would integrate it and notify the State Police. It was a smooth-functioning system. The bloody thing that had been Florence Horniman was led away by a guard, and the next prisoner led in. It was the middle-aged man, Chester Wengrove. "Get your hands off me," he snapped to the guard as he was shoved into the room. "You have no right to--" "Unfortunately, as a representative of the State he has every right," Kroll said calmly. He fed Wengrove's tape to the Inquisitor. The trial proceeded. Wengrove was stubborn; it took half an hour to break him down at all, but when he did speak he sang freely, giving data on his cell of the Movement. "Very good," the Inquisitor said when Wengrove finally coughed and said he knew no more. "You are completely exonerated from the charge of treason, in view of the information you have given." The eyes in the bloody face lit up. "I'm free, you mean?"