In front, the structure had made some show of keeping up appearances, for all its obvious age and deterioration. The entrance was neat if not new, and imitation veldrene drapes and occasional lengths of doloid stripping had been added to put a bold front to drabness. Back here, in the rear, all such was recognized as sham. Thick grime and even streaks of rust took the place of decoration. Litter cluttered the base-line, and the nearest door sagged half-open on its hinges. Inside, old odors of grease and filth added to the air of decay. There was a stairway of sorts beside an ancient fire-tube. Climbing to the fourth level, Ross moved silently down the dank central corridor. Veta Hall's number, 417D, was located close to the middle of the first wing. Instead of a tab-lock, the door had a primitive chain affair, anchored on the inside. Getting out his writer, Ross maneuvered for a moment. The chain clinked, then fell away. Easing the door open the rest of the way, Ross stepped inside. Small noises drifted from a room beyond the one in which he stood. Crossing to it, he reached for the doorknob. Before he could touch it, the door whipped open. Veta crossed the threshold, her eyes not even focussing on him. Ross caught her wrists as she looked up. When she started to cry out, he twisted sharply, so that the sound died on an indrawn breath. Now she stared at him, face pain-strained. "Thigpen, what's the matter--?" It was the faintest of whispers. "Nothing. Nothing but a corpse, that's all." Ross said it through clenched teeth. "Not that you'd know anything about that, would you, Veta?--About a man they called Zoltan Prenzz, the man I told you I was going to see on Japetus first chance I got--" He broke off; twisted the girl's wrists again. It brought her forward on tiptoe, tiny anguished sounds bubbling in her throat. Ross' face stayed a cold, relentless mask. He said tightly, "It's my own fault, Veta. All mine, for trusting you even a little--you, working for Pike Mawson, and with a brother on starak. Only now you're going to make it up by telling me the things I need to know. And this time there'll be no holding out or stalling." "Please, Thigpen...." The effort of speaking brought a small cluster of saliva bubbles to one corner of Veta's mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about. There must be some mistake--" "Your mistake," Ross corrected harshly. He backed Veta into the room from which she'd come. "We'll have some answers now: who killed Zoltan Prenzz?" "I don't know!" "Who'd you tell about him?" "I didn't--" "Who, I said! Mawson? Your brother?" "Thigpen, I didn't tell anyone! I couldn't! You only mentioned the man once. I didn't even remember his name till just now, when you reminded me." "We'll try it again, then--" A knock sounded on the outer door. Veta opened her mouth to scream. * * * * *