"Well," he replied seriously; "we know first that Peet is hiring a
bunch of gunmen to rub out Karfial Hodes--and incidentally, us."
"Us? What's incidental about that?" Joan interrupted vigorously. "Maybe
you consider having gunmen take a pot shot at you incidental, but as
far as I'm concerned it's the nub of the whole nasty business."
Jaro ignored the interruption. "Furthermore, we know that the Latonka
Trust is almost on the rocks because the Earth Congress is about to
grant the Mercurians their freedom. And this time Albert Peet and his
combine haven't been able to block it. Not yet anyway."
"Don't forget the revolution," said Joan.
"I'm not. A revolution would burst open the Latonka Trust like a ripe
watermelon. Peet would be lucky if he got away with his pants. But...."
A discreet knocking at the door interrupted him. Miss Webb clapped her
hand to her mouth as if to stifle a scream.
"Don't open it," she hissed loud enough to be heard on the next floor.
Jaro drew his slug gun, threw off the latch, then with a swift cat-like
movement yanked open the door.
Just outside stood a serving wagon loaded with food. The native waiter
looked up, startled at the sudden opening of the door, and found
himself staring down the barrel of Jaro's slug gun. His yellow eyes
popped out like agates and he almost completed a back somersault.
"Bring it in," said Jaro sheathing the gun.
With a reproachful glance the waiter set the dishes on the table and
retreated hastily. The serving wagon took the curve into the hall on
two wheels.
Suppressed giggles rocked Joan's body. "Oh, if you could have seen
yourself." She burst out laughing. "The mother bird defending its
young." She rocked back and forth in the chair.
"You'd better come eat," said Jaro stiffly, "before the food gets cold."
Joan stifled her laughter, wiped the tears out of her eyes, pulled up a
chair.
* * * * *
"I'm not a bit hungry," she protested; "but what a lovely steak."
She attacked it with vigor. "Um, um," she said between mouthfuls.
"Delicious." There were half a dozen other dishes. Her strong white
teeth wrought havoc with their contents. Jaro, a light eater, picked
at a salad, but for the most part he watched the girl with growing
interest. From time to time she cast covetous glances at his steak
which he had pushed aside.
"If you're not going to eat your steak," she ventured hesitantly.
Jaro pushed it across the table. "For a girl who wasn't a bit hungry,"
he said; "you've shown remarkable staying powers. What do you do? Store
it up in case of famine?"
"Really," said Joan polishing off Jaro's steak; "you embarrass me."
Just then a loud knock at the door caused her to gulp the last of it
unchewed.
"What is this?" she asked, "the crossroads of Mercury? You certainly
entertain a lot."
Jaro drew his slug gun again, tiptoed to the door, pulled it open.
A big blond young man was leaning against the door frame. He was a
good six feet, three inches tall and his shoulders almost filled the
entrance. He had light blue eyes, a short straight nose. The rest of
his face wore a broad grin.
"Hello, Jaro, you old butcher," said the big young man. "Quit tickling
my nose with that slug gun and invite me in."
Joan tittered as Jaro holstered the gun. The big young man caught sight
of her for the first time. He looked quickly away.
"Sorry, old man," he said in a low voice, "didn't know you had company.
No end sorry. Meet me tonight at _Mercury Sam's Garden_."
Jaro's face broke into a grin.
"Come in," he said. "It's much worse than it looks." He turned to
Joan. "Miss Webb, this is Irving Landovitch. He's with the Terrestrial
Intelligence Service; so naturally he has a suspicious mind."
[Illustration: _Landovitch_]