"No. Thank you very much, but this is work of an ... er ...
experimental nature. Company business, you know." The Factor bustled
them to the door. "We will meet again. Good afternoon."
And almost before they had stammered their confused farewells, he had
waved to them and lumbered off.
"Well!" said Lynn. "I must say that's the quickest brush-off I ever
got ... if not the smoothest."
"Horticultural experiment," mused Rocky. "Mmm-hmmm! It's possible, of
course, but ... I wonder. Bud ... er ... I mean, Ambrose--"
"Yeah?" said Ambrose.
"I think I'll stay here in New Boston for a few more hours. I'd like
to ... er ... study the native quarters. Perhaps you would be kind
enough to escort Miss Graham back to the Fort?"
"Certainly," nodded Bud. "A pleasure. But--"
Lynn Graham had been staring from one to the other of the two men
querulously. Now she declared herself. "Oh, no!" she stated flatly.
"You don't get rid of _me_ so easily as all that. Doctor Roswell--just
what's going on here?"
Rocky fumbled for his glasses.
"Er ... going on, Miss Graham? I don't understand--"
"Neither do I--which is just why I'm asking. First Grossman goes into
a mild panic; now you two are acting like the masked strangers in Act
Two. Not to mention the fact--" the girl pointed out shrewdly--"that
for a few minutes you quite forgot to talk like a college professor ...
and addressed your alleged 'valet' as 'Bud'--"
Rocky did remove his glasses. But this time he did not breathe on them,
wipe them, and replace them as was the habit of "Dr. Roswell." Instead,
he shoved them out of sight, and grinned at the girl. When he spoke it
was in his natural voice.
"All right, Miss Lynn," he said, "you win. I pulled a boner. Now I
might as well come clean. I am not Doctor Rockingham Roswell at all. My
name is Russell ... Rocky Russell ... and I'm here on Titan to--"
But not at that moment did he tell Lynn Graham who he was, and his
purpose on the satellite. For suddenly he paused in midsentence, his
jaw dropping open, and his eyes widening to match.
"Lord!" he gasped. "Look ... look at _that_!"
The others, too, had turned to determine the origin of the rumbling
sound. Now they saw it. A tremendous motor-roller trundling down the
main thoroughfare of New Boston. A heavy roller bearing a ponderous
burden ... a single, gigantic item. The appearance and purpose of this
item was unmistakable, but its size....
"Manacles!" croaked Bud. "But ... but who ever heard of manacles that
size! _That Thing is twenty feet in circumference!_"