"Well, I've seen some peculiar things," said Hendley. "Even that water polo match where you fished me out--by the way, I didn't have a chance to thank you properly." The young man brushed aside his gratitude. Hendley went on talking. "They play kind of rough. One of those men came out with a broken arm. It's hardly what you'd call playing for fun." The young man raised a quizzical eyebrow--one only in an exaggerated arch. The controlled boredom of his expression was deceptive. His face was in fact remarkably expressive, but each reaction seemed deliberately languid. He was, Hendley guessed, several years younger than Hendley's own thirty-three years, but he gave the impression of a sophisticated worldliness which Hendley could not approach. "You call hurting people fun?" Hendley demanded. The young man smiled lazily. "Some people do." A sudden, vivid image of a golf club, glinting in the sun as it slashed down in a vicious arc toward a limp figure on the green, jolted Hendley. The defenses which he had built up with drink and reason to contain that demoralizing reality abruptly shattered. "There was something else," he said soberly. "Maybe you can help me--it's something that happened today in a game. It--it's hard to believe, but it _did_ happen!" He recounted the incident as rationally as he could, trying to keep his voice steady. The young man's face failed to register the shock or disbelief Hendley had expected. As he listened the youth fingered his glass and pursed his lips. His expression was grave, but that might have been only in deference to Hendley's obvious emotion. When Hendley had finished, the young man's sole comment was to raise his glass to his lips and drink. "Don't tell me that sort of thing happens every day!" Hendley protested, stung by the lack of response. "Hardly," the other replied. "Though golf bugs are pretty unpredictable, and it's true about going into the game at your own risk. But murder is frowned upon, of course, even in golf." "_Frowned_ upon!" "Oh, yes. We're not all barbarians here." The young man smiled. "Isn't there something that can be done? Aren't there any Investigators--any penalties?" The young man's tone was cool. "We are the free," he said. When Hendley continued to stare at him, he explained, "Oh, your bald friend went too far. There's no denying that. And he won't get away with much of that conduct. The community will take care of him. We have our own ways. But you must see that what you're suggesting--Investigators, penalties, courts of order, that sort of thing--is quite out of place here." "But there has to be some order! Violence, murder--such things are unheard of outside!" His companion smiled again indulgently. "Isn't everything we have here unheard of outside?"