"Let him go, Kenesaw," a new voice broke in. Sanderson grunted, but
released the detective. He nodded toward the door.
"Got off early, eh, Hobbs?"
"A little." The man in the doorway was as big as Sanderson, but his
face was benevolent, gentle, and seamed with care. White hair bristled
in a ruff above his broad forehead. "A little," he repeated. "Zeeth and
I must go back tonight for the festival."
"_Sta._ We must go back tonight," said Zeeth, in the Venusian dialect.
He appeared from behind Hobbs, a native of Venus, with the familiar
soft plumpness and huge feet of the race. His dog-like eyes examined
Vanning. "New?"
The detective introduced himself. He was secretly puzzled. One of
these three men, apparently, was Callahan--but which one? None of them
resembled the man Vanning had seen on the micro-projector back at Venus
Landing. But, still--