The car stopped suddenly, the doors slid back. Norman stared out at
a dimly-lit, low-ceilinged room which stretched off into shadows on
either hand. It was full of bales, boxes and dust.
He dragged the bodies out, stretched them side by side on the floor.
"Where are the suits?"
"Any of those cases."
Feverishly, he broke one open, pulled out the familiar green suit with
helmet, gloves, and boots attached.
"Now that you've got it," said the Duchess, "have you figured how
you're going to get out with it? We've got as much chance of returning
the way we came as of burrowing through the walls. That slave barracks
won't quiet down for a week."
He appeared crestfallen, then his eyes lit on his latest victim. He
brightened. "Aren't the only men in Behrl who wear civilian clothes
agents of the Venusian Export Lines, and didn't you say they had their
headquarters upstairs?"
The Duchess nodded.
He began to strip the clothes from their second victim.
"We'll walk out the front door," he said grimly.
"You're a resourceful rogue," the Duchess admitted with admiration.
In a matter of minutes, he had changed clothes. Hastily, he bundled up
the green suit, wrapped it in a piece of packing paper. "Let's get out
of here."
"What about these?" The Duchess indicated the bodies on the floor.
"Leave them there. They don't know what hit them."
They re-entered the lift, got off on the street floor. Six guards were
loafing in the foyer. One of them winked when he saw the slave girl
demurely following the young man out of the elevator.
Norman swallowed, walked out into the blessed sunlight. No one tried to
stop him.
He didn't draw an easy breath until they were back in his car, the
insulation suit tucked under the seat.
"Well," he said triumphantly as they sped from the alley onto a broad
thoroughfare, "that's one."
"One!" cried the Duchess. "You're not going to try to get any more?"
"We need hundreds," he assured her.
* * * * *
She stared at him in awe. "Hundreds!" Then she began to laugh. "Well,
the Lord helps those who help themselves."
They drove along for a few minutes in silence.
"Listen," said the Duchess suddenly. "You need more insulation suits. I
know how they can be obtained."
"How?"
"I know the people who work in the factory. There are a few I can
trust. If anyone could slip out the green suits, they could."
Norman was jubilant. "Great," he ejaculated.
"But you'll have to buy me."
"Buy you?" he echoed.
"Yes," said the Duchess. "If I have to stay at that library another
day, I'll die. Besides, I need more freedom to contact the workers."
She saw him wavering, put her hand over his on the wheel. "It gets so
lonesome in that library."
"All right," he agreed.
The Duchess threw her arms about him. "You're a dear," she squealed.
Jennifer, he thought unhappily, wasn't going to like this at all.
The transaction proved as simple as the Duchess had forecast. For the
ridiculous sum of fifty notes plus the girl's original purchase price,
the agent transferred her to Norman Saint Clair. He turned the car into
the basement of the apartment, his latest venture in livestock on the
seat beside him. He had been rather silent since leaving the agent.
Not only must he explain the Duchess to Jennifer, he had to explain
Jennifer to the Duchess.
He brought the car to a stop, said uneasily, "I forgot to tell you.
I have...." He paused, started over again. "There is another girl in
my apartment, too. She.... Well.... There are three bedrooms. I don't
think we'll be too crowded. Do you?" He mopped his brow with his
handkerchief.
The Duchess was regarding him, a steel-like glint in her gray eyes.
"Of all the deceitful, lecherous rogues it's been my misfortune to
meet," she said, her tone low, gentle, "in a profession where rogues
abound, you are the lowest."
"Now I say ..." he protested, but the Duchess swept his words aside.
"You wolf, bleating like a lamb. Oh, you're clever. I haven't a thing
to reproach you with. You fixed it so it was I who asked you to buy
me. But mark this, handsome, our association is going to be strictly
business. You supply me with food and shelter; I supply the Sinn
Feiners with green suits."
"But isn't that why I bought you?" he asked in perplexity.
"What?" said the Duchess, hauling herself up short.
"I mean, you didn't like the library, and you needed more freedom any
way to contact the factory workers. It looked to me like a sensible
plan."
"Well, I'll be darned," said the Duchess.
"What?" he asked.
"I apologize." She held out her hand. He took it gratefully. "If you
like," she said, "you can give me a good swift kick."
They went up in the lift. When they entered the apartment, they found
Koal talking to Jennifer. He introduced the Duchess.
"I bought her from the Dohlmites," he blurted out. "She's to have the
spare room."
Koal regarded the Duchess with admiration, made a clucking sound.
Norman reddened.
"What are you doing?" asked Jennifer sweetly. "Starting a harem?"
"Won't it be cozy," interposed the Duchess coolly, "twenty-nine or
thirty of us scampering about the apartment."
"What?" said Jennifer.
"Well, you know what the collecting instinct's like."
Norman hastily unwrapped the green suit, related their adventures. The
Duchess, he explained, had promised to help procure more of them.
Although Jennifer still seemed skeptical, the Martian's expression
changed. He looked at the Duchess thoughtfully. "You can supply us with
more of these?"
"Yes. There's a girl who works in the factory. We played the triangle
together. Her name's Marcia. We were booked for a run on Ganymede when
we were captured. If anyone can slip out the green suits, she can."
The Martian nodded. "We'll have a car waiting behind the factory." He
turned suddenly upon Norman. "I've got bad news," he said.
Norman felt his heart sink.
"What is it?"
"The Dohlmites are preparing to attack Ganymede."
"Ganymede!" ejaculated Norman. "When?"
The Martian gestured palm up with his hands, shrugged. "We haven't been
told yet. I imagine they're waiting until all the ships are back. It's
the beginning of the end of the Empire, unless we can do something
quick."