This was not going to be plez, not at all plez. Despite what this Beti French had told him, he was nervous about putting himself in the hands of either the police or psychologist of this barbarous era. But there didn't seem to be anything else he could do. His conversation with the redheaded girl had shown him clearly what kind of reception he would meet from anyone else he ventured to approach. First he must eat--he was ravenous. He dared not ask for any food except the two things the girl had mentioned, whatever they were like. Presumably the money she had given him would be enough. The restaurant had a long counter of some white substance, with stools fixed before it. Only one man sat there eating, but behind it stood another man dressed in white, with a white cap on his head. Mikel perched himself on the nearest stool. "Hamburger, coffee, please," he said, and laid Beti's money beside him on the counter. The other customer looked up and eyed him sharply, but the man behind the counter merely yelled "One on a bun!" through a hole in the wall. "Mustard?" he asked, "Onions? Cream?" "No, Citizen. Hamburger, coffee," Mikel repeated, flustered. "A joker!" the man grunted. "This town! You in the movies, bud?" Mikel stared. "He wants a burger without and coffee with," the other customer put in suddenly. He picked up his dishes and slid down to the next stool. He was a heavy-set, middle-aged man, dressed as the man in the store had been--in dark cloth bifurcated leg-coverings and a dark, long-sleeved upper garment over a light-colored under-garment, with a gaudy ribbon around his neck. "Okay, okay," said the man in white placatingly, and set down before Mikel something on a plate and something else in a cup, both hot. Mikel began sampling them gingerly with the unaccustomed implements. The restaurant man took the money, put it in a box that rang a bell, and laid down some small metal objects in its place. Then he disappeared through a door behind the counter. Mikel's neighbor waited until he had gone. Then in a low voice he said: "Finish the food, Citizen Skot. Then we'll talk." Mikel looked up, frozen. The stranger shot his left wrist out from the sleeve. Sealed to it was a timeporter. "From TTT executive, Citizen," he said briskly. "I didn't think I'd find you quite so soon, but I knew it wouldn't be long, since you didn't wait to get proper equipment for your journey. It is fort for you that this is perhaps the only place in this era where you would not have been taken up at sight for wandering around in unusual clothing." "How--how did you know what period--" "We only had to check the tickets, to see which was missing. Have you the knife?" * * * * * Mikel brought it out dumbly and laid it on the counter. The man put it in a pouch sewed into his lower garment. "I didn't do it! I didn't!" Mikel cried despairingly. He had lost his appetite completely.