"The wretch insists that he could remember if we would just let him
alone. I suppose he took a bribe. You'll find one now and then who
tries for a little extra profit."
She must absolutely not be seen by the condemned inquisitor. The
stimulus would almost certainly make him remember.
"I'll wait for you," she said indifferently, thrusting her arms out in
a languorous yawn.
"Very well." Perat stepped to the door, then turned and looked back at
her. "On the other hand, I may need a clerk. It's way after hours, and
the others have gone."
Beneath a gesture of wry protest, she swallowed rapidly.
"Perhaps you'd better come," insisted Perat.
She stood up, unloosed her waist-purse, checked its contents swiftly,
and then followed him out.
This might be a very close thing. From the purse she took a bottle of
perfume and rubbed her ear lobes casually.
"Odd smell," commented Perat, wrinkling his nose.
"Odd scent," corrected Evelyn cryptically. She was thinking about
the earnest faces of the mentors as they instructed her carefully in
the use of the "perfume." The adrenalin glands, they had explained,
provided a useful and powerful stimulant to a man in danger. Adrenalin
slowed the heart and digestion, increased the systole and blood
pressure, and increased perspiration to cool the skin. But there
could be too much of a good thing. An overdose of adrenalin, they had
pointed out, caused almost immediate edema. The lungs filled rapidly
with the serum and the victim ... drowned. The perfume she possessed
over-stimulated, in some unknown way, the adrenals of frightened
persons. It had no effect on inactive adrenals.
The question remained--who would be the more frightened, she or the
condemned inquisitor?
She was perspiring freely, and the blonde hair on her arms and neck was
standing stiffly when Perat opened the door for her and they entered
the Zone Provost's chambers.
* * * * *
One glance at the trembling creature in the prisoner's chair
reassured her. The ex-inquisitor, shorn of his insignia, shabby and
stubble-bearded, sat huddled in his chair and from time to time swept
his grave tormentors with glazed eyes. He looked a long while at Evelyn.
She got out her bottle of perfume idly and held it open in her warm
hand. The officers and judge-provost were listening to the opening
address of the prosecution and took no notice of her.
More and more frequently the condemned man turned his gaze to Evelyn.
She poured a little of the scent on her handkerchief. The prisoner
coughed and rubbed his chin, trying to think.
The charges were finally read, and the defense attorney began his
opening statement. The prisoner, now coughing more frequently, was
oblivious to all but the woman. Once she thought she saw a flicker of
recognition in his eyes, and she fanned herself hurriedly with her
handkerchief.
The trial droned on to a close. It was a mere formality. The prosecutor
summed up by proving that a Terran woman had been captured, possibly
named Evelyn Kane, turned over to the defendant for registration and
disposal, and that the defendant's weekly accounts failed to show a
receipt for the release of the woman. Q.E.D., the death sentence must
be affirmed.
The light in the prisoner's eyes was growing clearer, despite his
bronchial difficulties. He began now to pay attention to what was said
and to take notice of the other faces. It was as though he had finally
found the weapon he wanted, and patiently awaited an opportunity to use
it.
The defense was closing. Counsel for the prisoner declared that the
latter might have been the innocent victim of the escapee, Evelyn
Kane, possibly a telepathic Terran woman, because only a fool would
have permitted a prisoner to escape without attempting to juggle the
prison records, unless his mind had been under telepathic control. They
ought to be looking for Evelyn Kane now, instead of wasting time with
her victim. She might be anywhere. She might even be in this building.
He bowed apologetically to Evelyn, she smiled at the faces suddenly
looking at her with new interest.
The man in the prisoner's chair was peering at Evelyn through
half-closed eyes, his arms crossed on his chest. He had stopped
coughing, and the fingers of his right hand were tapping patiently on
his sleeve.
If Perat should at this moment probe the prisoner's mind....
Evelyn, in turning to smile at Perat, knocked the bottle from the
table to the floor, where it broke in a liquid tinkle. She put her
hands to her mouth in contrite apology. The judge-provost frowned, and
Perat eyed her curiously. The prisoner was seized with such a spasm of
coughing that the provost, who had stood to pronounce sentence, paused
in annoyance. The wracking ceased.
The provost picked up the Faeg lying before him.
"Have you anything to say before you die?" he asked coldly.
The ex-inquisitor stood and turned a triumphant face to him.
"Excellency, you ask, where is the woman prisoner who escaped from me?
Well, I can tell you...."
He clutched wildly at his throat, coughed horridly, and bent in Evelyn
Kane's direction.
"_She_...."
His lips, which were rapidly growing purple, moved without saying
anything intelligible, and he suddenly crashed over the chair and to
the floor.
The prison physician leaped to him, stethoscope out. After a few
minutes, he stood up, puzzled and frowning, in the midst of a strained
silence. "Odd, very odd," he muttered.
"Did the prisoner faint?" asked the judge-provost incuriously, lowering
the Faeg.
"The prisoner's lungs are filled with liquid, apparently the result of
hyperactive adrenals," commented the baffled physician. "He's dead, and
don't ask me to explain why."
Evelyn smothered a series of hacking coughs in her handkerchief as the
court broke up in excited groups. From the corner of her eye she saw
that Perat was studying her thoughtfully.