* * * * *
When we came back to the court later, shaken and pale and bracing
ourselves for another dash at any minute, we found Gaffa and his
grinning chums congratulating the Quack. The bogus Haslop had dropped
his impersonation act and seemed very happy.
"I've learned to like Haslop so well after twenty-two years," he said,
"that I'm quite prejudiced in favor of his species, and I'm delighted
that we are to join your Realm. Balak and Terra will get along famously,
I know, since you people are so ingenious and appreciative of humor."
We ignored the Balakians and swooped down on the Quack.
"You put something in that pitcher after you drank out of it, you insult
to humanity," I said. "What was it?"
The Quack backed off with a wary look in his eye.
"A recipe from the curiosa section of my medical book," he said. "I
whipped up some capsules for my pocket kit, just in case of emergency,
and I couldn't help thinking of them when--"
"Never mind the buildup," Captain Corelli said. "_What was it?_"
"A formula invented by ancient Terran bartenders, and not recommended
except in extreme cases," the Quack said. "With a very odd name. It's
called a twin Mickey."
We'd probably have murdered him then and there if the Quack's concoction
had let us.
Later on we had to admit that the Quack had actually done us a service,
since his identifying the real Haslop saved us from being marooned for
life on Balak. And the Balakians were such an immediate sensation in the
Terran Realm that the Quack's part in their admittance made him famous
overnight. Somebody high up in Government circles got him out of Solar
Exploitations field work and gave him a sinecure in an antibiotics
laboratory, where he wound up as happy as a pig in a peanut field.
Which points up the statement I made in the beginning, that one thing
you never have to worry about in Solar Exploitations work is being
bored.
You see what I mean?