Marah turned. His eyes had a greenish, feral glint like those of a lion
on the kill. He said, "I'm sorry, little man."
Campbell was on his feet, now, and reasonably steady. "Think nothing
of it," he said dourly. "A natural mistake." He looked at the hook and
mopped the blood from his neck, and felt sick. He added, "The name's
Black. Thomas Black."
"It wouldn't be Campbell?" asked the woman's voice. "Roy Campbell?"
He squinted into the light, not saying anything. The woman said, "You
are Roy Campbell. The Spaceguard was here not long ago, hunting for
you. They left your picture."