"On what security?"
Harvey thought. "On no security. I am an honest man. My word is good
enough. However, there will be a bonus when the loan is returned.
Before Thanksgiving you will be in receipt of one dozen succulent,
tender, meaty Plymouth Rock chickens as large as turkeys. May I ask
what your astrological sign is?"
The official leaned back staring, and making a soundless whistle. He
couldn't laugh. This man had no sense of humor. He said, "Well, I was
born August 26--"
"Fine, fine. A Virgo. You and I can do business, sir. Pisces and Virgo
get along. I shall be leaving at 5:00 SST. I shall leave my vessel in
your care. Good evening." He slept untroubled at the hotel connected
with the Claims Office, and in the morning took off. The meter reading,
which he did not even trouble to inspect, read Full.
He went to Venus, taking two weeks to get there. On the way he passed
his planet which he was naming Plymouth, but did not trouble to open
the port to look at it. Not much could have occurred to misplace it. On
Venus, he docked his ship at the central spaceport, and went by tube
to Venus Port. Five minutes after getting there he was talking to the
secretary in the outer office of the firm of Gramenger & Lewis. At
first the secretary did not want to admit him to see Mr. Gramenger, but
Harvey said:
"May I have your name, please?"
She gave it. He sat down with pencil and paper, and after five minutes
looked up with a pleased smile. "Numerologically," he said, "we find
a coincidence here. We are both 22's. This is an exceptionally strong
number, denoting trust, idealism, and self-mastery. What is your
astrological sign?"
"Pisces."
"Pisces! I, too, am a Pisces."
She gave him a look. "Pisces people are not noted for their diplomacy,
or for subtlety. You're under the wrong sign."