When I awoke, there were two men in red and bronze uniforms standing over my rack. They didn't seem very pleased to find me there. One of them had my bag open, and was holding my collapser in his hand, and the look he was giving me wasn't the cheeriest I'd ever seen. "What are you guys doing here?" I demanded. In speaking, I tried to gesture. That's when I became aware of the cold steel manacles on my wrists. "What the hell?" The one with the weapon hefted it thoughtfully in his palm. "Don't you know it's a death-penalty offense to have possession of a collapser, chum?" he said. The other one, not waiting for my answer, began undoing the straps across my body, and assisting me to my feet. "Say, look, what do you guys mean by coming here and--" "We were alerted," said the first man. "By an Amnesty-bearer." I simply stared at him for an unbelieving instant. Then I said, "You're crazy! There's only one Amnesty in existence, and--" With horrible clarity, I recalled Snow's impassioned farewell in the lounge, and the way her hands had darted about; my neck. I brought my manacled hands up to my blouse and felt frantically for the red and bronze disc. The Amnesty was gone. "Come along, now," said the one who'd helped me up. "Where are we going?" I demanded. "You're to be held incommunicado," he said, "until the Amnesty-bearer returns. Come along, now. We haven't got all day!" "Day?" I said, and looked toward the viewport. Sure enough the glaring Martian sunlight was pouring into the cabin. "But we were landing on the night side," I said, confused. "You did," said the one with the collapser. "Only it was arranged that you'd stay asleep for a while, till we could get here." "Arranged how?" I choked furiously. Then I remembered the capsules I'd taken. I looked toward the instruction posted on the inside of the cabin door. Now that I was in no great hurry, I could see where someone had, with ordinary pen and ink, gone over the numeral 1, and made it into a passable 2. Someone, I thought bitterly, with shimmering cornsilk hair and red velvet lips! "Now, just a minute, you guys, I can explain." I said. "Stow it," said the one with the gun. "Come on, get moving." "When Chief Baxter hears about this--" I growled. He laughed. "You know Baxter has no authority to over-ride an Amnesty-bearer's orders!" Once again, he motioned with the collapser in the direction of the door. "Well then, boys," I said, in as threatening a tone as I could muster, "let your fat heads chew on this for a while: the girl who has that Amnesty stole it from me! You just get hold of Baxter and verify it. Because if you don't, there are going to be two slightly-used Security Agent's uniforms for sale!" They looked at each other, frowning. Then the one with the gun scowled. The other guy paled. "Say, Charlie, what if there is something to his story? What do you think we ought to do?"