They emerged into the interior of a long shed, adobe-walled and thatch-roofed, with small barred windows set high above the earth floor. It was cool and shadowy, and the air was heavy with the fragrance of citrus fruits. There were bins along the walls, some partly full of oranges, and piles of wicker baskets. Another conveyer dome stood beside the one in which they had arrived; two men in white cloaks and riding boots sat on the edge of one of the bins, smoking and talking. Skordran Kirv introduced them--Gathon Dard and Krador Arv, special detectives--and asked if anything new had come up. Krador Arv shook his head. "We still have about forty to go," he said. "Nothing new in their stories; still the same two time lines." [Illustration:] "These people," Skordran Kirv explained, "were all peons on the estate of a Kharanda noble just above the big bend of the Ganges. The Croutha hit their master's estate about a ten-days ago, elapsed time. In telling about their capture, most of them say that their master's wife killed herself with a dagger after the Croutha killed her husband, but about one out of ten say that she was kidnaped by the Croutha. Two different time lines, of course. The ones who tell the suicide story saw no firearms among the Croutha; the ones who tell the kidnap story say that they all had some kind of muskets and pistols. We're making synthetic summaries of the two stories." "We're having trouble with the locals about all these strangers coming in," Gathon Dard added. "They're getting curious." "We'll have to take a chance on that," Vall said. "Are the interrogations still going on? Then let's have a look-in at them." The big double doors at the end of the shed were barred on the inside. Krador Arv unlocked a small side door, letting Vall, Dalla and Gathon Dard out. In the yard outside, a gang of slaves were unloading a big wagon of oranges and packing them into hampers; they were guarded by a couple of native riflemen who seemed mostly concerned with keeping them away from the shed, and a man in a white cloak was watching the guards for the same purpose. He walked over and introduced himself to Vall. "Golzan Doth, local alias Dosu Golan. I'm Consolidated Outtime Foodstuffs' manager here." "Nasty business for you people," Vall sympathized. "If it's any consolation, it's a bigger headache for us." "Have you any idea what's going to be done about these slaves?" Golzan Doth asked. "I have to remember that the Company has forty thousand Paratemporal Exchange Units invested in them. The top office was very specific in requesting information about that." Vall shook his head. "That's over my echelon," he said. "Have to be decided by the Paratime Commission. I doubt if your company'll suffer. You bought them innocently, in conformity with local custom. Ever buy slaves from this Coru-hin-Irigod before?" "I'm new, here. The man I'm replacing broke his neck when his horse put a foot in a gopher hole about two ten-days ago."