There was a scratching sound which irritated me. I tried unsuccessfully to weave it into a couple of dreams before my subconscious gave up. I was lying on my back, eyes closed. I couldn't think where I was. I remembered a frightening dream about being followed, and then as I became aware of pain in my shoulder and head, my eyes snapped open. I was lying on a cot at the side of a small office; the scratching came from the desk where a dapper man in a white uniform sat writing. There was a humming sound and a feeling of motion. I sat up. At once the man behind the desk looked up, rose, and walked over to me. He drew up a chair and sat down. "Please don't be alarmed," he said in a clipped British accent. "I'm Chief Captain Winter. You need merely to assist in giving me some routine information, after which you will be assigned comfortable quarters." He said all this in a smooth lifeless way, as though he'd been through it before. Then he looked directly at me for the first time. "I must apologize for the callousness with which you were handled; it was not my intention. However," his tone changed, "you must excuse the operative; he was uninformed." Chief Captain Winter opened a notebook and lolled back in his chair with pencil poised. "Where were you born, Mr. Bayard?" They must have been through my pockets, I thought; they know my name. "Who the hell are you?" I said. The chief captain raised an eyebrow. His uniform was immaculate, and brilliantly jewelled decorations sparkled on his chest. "Of course you are confused at this moment, Mr. Bayard, but everything will be explained to you carefully in due course. I am an Imperial officer, duly authorized to interrogate subjects under detention." He smiled soothingly. "Now please state your birthplace." I said nothing. I didn't feel like answering any questions; I had too many of my own to ask first. I couldn't place the fellow's accent. He was an Englishman all right, but I couldn't have said from what part of England. I glanced at the medals. Most of them were strange but I recognized the scarlet ribbon of the Victoria Cross, with three palms, ornamented with gems. There was something extremely phoney about Chief Captain Winter. "Come along now, old chap," Winter said sharply. "Kindly cooperate. It will save a great deal of unpleasantness." I looked at him grimly. "I find being chased, grabbed, gassed, stuffed in a cell, and quizzed about my personal life pretty damned unpleasant already, so don't bother trying to keep it all on a high plane. I'm not answering any questions." I reached in my pocket for my passport; it wasn't there. "Since you've already stolen my passport, you know by now that I'm an American diplomat, and enjoy diplomatic immunity to any form of arrest, detention, interrogation and what have you. So I'm leaving as soon as you return my property, including my shoes."