A crowd had gathered. If they wondered at the appearance of these ragged, scarred and bewhiskered men; at sweat and blood-covered giant Tolto; the obviously high-bred girl in the laboring man's garments, they wisely refrained from comment or action, in deference to the neuros with which the party was bristling. Once inside and safely in the air, they had time to breathe. Murray, with a gallantry that sat ill on the scarecrow figure he was, cleared matters up a trifle. "Princess Sira? As I thought. Princess, or Your Highness, to be formal, I am your humble and disreputable servant, Lige Murray, of the Interplanetary Flying Police. Likewise this gentleman behind the brush--Sime Hemingway. You know Tuman? You've missed something, Your Highness! And Tolto! Lucky man!" Sira recovered quickly from her reaction following the fight. She found a first-aid kit, bandaged Tolto's wounded shoulder skilfully and quickly. She had given no sign of recognition as Sime awkwardly bowed, during Murray's introduction, but now, as Sime held a roll of bandage for her, she gave him a sidewise look, agleam with mischief. "But I have decided to remit the punishment--the sentence I passed on you, Mr. Hemingway," she said, her sweet, child-like face innocent. "What punishment?" Sime gasped. "Why, the punishment of death! For kissing me that night!" she laughed, turning her back. Murray was heading back for the government park. It was a short distance with the police car. Soon the broad grounds, with their scattered, magnificent buildings, lay below them. But the parks were strangely bare of living creatures. Here and there lay the bodies of men or women. "Something's happened!" Murray shouted excitedly. "Look out!" * * * * * He swerved the ship sharply. They escaped damage as an atomic bomb, unskilfully aimed, exploded far to one side. "Funny thing, firing on a police car," Sime puzzled. "They might have got news from that detachment we grounded, but how do they know this isn't some other police or military car?" "Those aren't soldiers," Murray decided. "There's been a riot, and some civilian's got hold of an ato-projector." "I know what's happened!" Sira exclaimed suddenly. "Wasil--a technie--has managed to broadcast the secret session! That upset their psychology. Oh!" Her face was alight, and she threw up her arms in ecstasy. As quickly she subsided, and tears came to her eyes. "Wasil!" she cried. "If he is dead, Mellie will never forgive me!" "Where is this technie?" Sime asked bruskly. "In the broadcast room. But they have probably killed him." "Never can be sure. Head her smack for the main entrance, Murray!" Murray threw the car into a steep dive, and the hall portal rushed up to meet them. A soldier came partially out of concealment, waved a signal. Murray paid him no heed.