"There you two go disagreeing again," Ginger complained. "Now just what do you want me to do with him?" "I've worked out a test we can give him. We can tell whether he's lying or telling the truth when he says he's a professor." "Oh, this is all so much nonsense," said Naomi impatiently. She withdrew a piece of paper from her belt wallet, handed it to me. "Here," she said sarcastically, "here is that research you had me do at the library. I authorize you to handle this matter for both of us." She stalked out of the hall with a short, scornful laugh. * * * * * Ginger had locked him in the nuclear torch storeroom, a none too healthy place. We escorted him to the communications office. I began the interrogation. "You say your name is--?" "Lewis Worth." "And your occupation is a professor?" "Assistant professor of sociology, Mars University." He clipped his words with deliberate over-formality. His expression was faintly amused. "So you say, and so your papers say, but those could be forgeries, you admit?" "Yes, that's possible," he replied softly, "but it's so easy for you to check with my department." "Undoubtedly there is someone there by that name," Ginger interjected. "But that doesn't prove your identity." "I have here a list of members of your alleged department. If you actually belong to it you should be able to give me their names." He nodded slowly. "A fair test." "Then call them off, beginning with the department chairman. And if you make a single mistake, I'll have my girl shoot you on the spot." Ginger raised her blaster eagerly. A minute later she lowered it in disappointment. "Very well," I said. "You weren't lying. Now tell me why you came here. And be brief, if you please. Because, fifteen minutes from now I want you on your ship heading back to wherever you came from." The professor stared at me for a moment. "The truth is, I came to see you." Ginger blushed, the first time I had ever seen her do a thing like that. "Wait outside," I told her sternly. When we were alone I faced him inquiringly. "Oh don't misunderstand me," he began. "It isn't anything personal. And then again, maybe it is. You see, in my academic language, you represent the charismatic personality." "Just what do you mean?" I demanded. "Well, as I told you, I'm studying juvenile delinquency, gangs, and leaders of gangs--the whole problem of youth's orientation in society, and the way he reacts. Frankly, Vera, you and your gang have built up a terrible reputation in adult circles, and I, for one, am perfectly, fascinated. I wonder if you'd admit me to your gang?" "What the hell are you talking about!" I was really shocked. "Oh--oh--strictly as an observer, mind you. For a short time only." "Not a chance, professor."