Kerim shook her head. "His breathing and pulse seem all right, and that
bump on his head doesn't look really bad, but he hasn't moved at all.
Can you think of anything else we might do for him, Gefty?"
"Not at the moment," Gefty said. "He hasn't broken any bones. We'll see
how he feels when he comes out of it." He was wondering about Mr.
Maulbow and the fact that this charter had showed some unusual features
from the beginning.
Kerim was a friendly sort of girl; they'd got to calling each other by
their first names within a day or two after the trip started. But after
that, she seemed to be avoiding him; and Gefty guessed that Maulbow had
spoken to her, probably to make sure that Kerim didn't let any of her
employer's secrets slip out.
Maulbow himself was as aloof and taciturn a client as Rammer Spacelines
ever had picked up. A lean, blond character of indeterminate age, with
pale eyes, hard mouth. Why he had selected a bulky semifreighter like
the _Queen_ for a mineralogical survey jaunt to a lifeless little sun
system far beyond the outposts of civilization was a point he didn't
discuss. Gefty, needing the charter money, had restrained his curiosity.
If Maulbow wanted only a pilot and preferred to do all the rest of the
work himself, that was certainly Maulbow's affair. And if he happened to
be up to something illegal--though it was difficult to imagine
what--Customs would nail him when they got back to the Hub.
But those facts looked a little different now.
* * *
Gefty scratched his chin, inquired, "Do you happen to know where Mr.
Maulbow keeps the keys to the storage vault?"
Kerim looked startled. "Why, no! I couldn't permit you to take the keys
anyway while he ... while he's unconscious! You know that."