The body is a slave of habit. Even with death a few inches away it will respond to established custom. My fingers moved of their own volition and took the cigar, my lips clenched it and my lungs sucked it into life. And all the time my eyes watched the man behind the desk waiting for death to reach out. It must have shown. He waved towards a chair and carefully kept both hands in sight on top of the desk. I still had my gun, it was trained on him. "Sit down diGriz and put that cannon away. If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it a lot easier than herding you into this room." His eyebrows moved up in surprise when he saw the expression on my face. "Don't tell me you thought it was an accident that you ended up here?" I had, up until that moment, and the lack of intelligent reasoning on my part brought on a wave of shame that snapped me back to reality. I had been outwitted and outfought, the least I could do was surrender graciously. I threw the gun on the desk and dropped into the offered chair. He swept the pistol neatly into a drawer and relaxed a bit himself. "Had me worried there for a minute, the way you stood there rolling your eyes and waving this piece of field artillery around." "Who are you?" He smiled at the abruptness of my tone. "Well, it doesn't matter who I am. What does matter is the organization that I represent." "The Corps?" "Exactly. The Special Corps. You didn't think I was the local police, did you? They have orders to shoot you on sight. It was only after I told them how to find you that they let the Corps come along on the job. I have some of my men in the building, they're the ones who herded you up here. The rest are all locals with itchy trigger fingers." It wasn't very flattering but it was true. I had been pushed around like a class M robot, with every move charted in advance. The old boy behind the desk--for the first time I realized he was about sixty-five--really had my number. The game was over. "All right Mr. Detective, you have me so there is no sense in gloating. What's next on the program? Psychological reorientation, lobotomy--or just plain firing squad?" "None of those, I'm afraid. I am here to offer you a job on the Corps." The whole thing was so ludicrous that I almost fell out of the chair laughing. Me. James diGriz, the interplanet thief working as a policeman. It was just too funny. He sat patiently, waiting until I was through. * * * * * "I will admit it has its ludicrous side--but only at first glance. If you stop to think, you will have to admit that who is better qualified to catch a thief than another thief?" There was more than a little truth in that, but I wasn't buying my freedom by turning stool pigeon. "An interesting offer, but I'm not getting out of this by playing the rat. There is even a code among thieves, you know."