I was startled. I had been thinking of it as night. I looked at my watch. It had been one hour and ten minutes since I had entered the palace. Doesn't time go fast, I thought to myself, when everyone's having fun. Chica brought over a loaf of bread and a wedge of brown cheese from the cupboard, and placed them on the table with a knife. I was cautious. "OK if I pick up the knife?" I asked. "Sure," Gros said. "Go ahead." He reached under the table and laid a short-nosed revolver before him. Miche came back to the table as I chewed on a slice of tough bread. It was good bread. I tried the wine. It wasn't bad. The cheese was good, too. "You eat well," I said. "This is good." Chica threw me a grateful smile. "We do all right," Gros said. "Better get Mouth here out of that fancy suit," Miche said, jerking his head at me. "Somebody might just take a shot at that without thinking. The boys have got kind of nervous about them kind of suits." Gros looked at me. "That's right," he said. "Miche will give you some other clothes. That uniform don't go over so big here." I didn't like this development at all. My communicator was built into the scrambled eggs on my lapels. I had to say no and make it stick. "Sorry," I said. "I keep the outfit. It's part of the act. I'll put a coat over it if necessary." Miche put his foot against my chair and shoved; I saw it coming and managed to scramble to my feet instead of going over with the chair. Miche faced me. "Strip, mister," he said. "You heard the man." The men still in the room fell silent, watching. I looked at Miche. I hoped Gros would speak up. I couldn't see anything to be gained by this. Nobody spoke. I glanced over at Gros. He was just looking at us. Miche reached behind, brought out a knife. The blade snicked out. "Or do I have to cut it off you," he growled. "Put the knife away, Miche," Gros said mildly. "You don't want to cut up our secret weapon here; and we want the uniform off all in one piece." "Yeah," Miche said. "You got a point." He dropped the knife on the table and moved in on me. From his practiced crouch and easy shuffling step, I saw that he had been a professional. I decided not to wait for him. I threw myself forward with my weight behind a straight left to the jaw. It caught Miche by surprise, slammed against his chin and rocked him back. I tried to follow up, catch him again while he was still off balance, but he was a veteran of too many fights. He covered up, back-pedalled, shook his head, and then flicked out with a right that exploded against my temple. I was almost out, staggering. He hit me again, square on the nose. Blood flowed. I wouldn't last long against this bruiser. The crowd was still bunched at the far end of the room, moving this way, now, watching delightedly, calling encouragement to Miche. Gros still sat, and Chica stared from her place by the wall.