Koskelainen jerked frantically and the hair came off with a ripping sound. Lawrence found himself holding a well-made wig, and Koskelainen's natural hair was seen in the light of the street-lamp to be the bright green of a Krishnan. Furthermore, it transpired that the wig had included a peak of artificial skin coming down low over the forehead to hide the feathery antennas that sprang from between the Krishnan's eyebrows.
Magramen had skidded to a stop and whirled. Before the Krishnan could dodge again, the Dzlieri seized him and hoisted him high in the air.
"What you want me do with he?" said Magramen. "Can have much fun busting skull against an lamppost, I think, yeah, huh?"
"No, just carry him back. Oh, here's a cop. Officer, will you pinch this guy?"
"Which one? The inhuman monster or the felly he's holding?"
"The felly he's holding."
"What for?"
"Well, for impersonating a military officer will do to begin with. Here's Dr. Schmidt, from the Institute, who'll tell you all you need to know about it."
Schmidt said, after getting his breath: "Guess I'll have to—uh—go to the station-house to comply with formalities. Where's the nearest one?"
The policeman gave the address of the Third Precinct headquarters. Schmidt said: "Greg, get the truck and drive Magramen down there to pick me up. See you in a few minutes."
On his way back to the hotel, Lawrence encountered Licia Ferreira, streaming along with the general rout of members and guests of the Institute. Expecting appreciation for the athletic part he had played in unmasking the impostor, he said: "Licia, I—"
"I don't care to talk to you, Mr. Lawrence!" And off she went, leaving Lawrence standing on the sidewalk with his mouth open.
He pulled himself together and led Magramen to the truck. Half an hour later they picked up Schmidt. The xenologist exuded self-satisfaction, but Lawrence had his own troubles. "She wouldn't speak to me!" he moaned. "Wouldn't even let me explain!"
"Well, what d'you expect?" said Schmidt, lighting his pipe. "I suppose she'd fallen for this bleep, and you busted her illusion. You don't—uh—expect people to thank you for that, do you?"
Lawrence sighed. "I suppose not."
"Cheer up. Either she'll get over it, in which case everything'll be okay, or she won't, in which case you're lucky to escape such a dumb jane."
"Who was Koskelainen really?"
"Oh, that. Just a Krishnan named Chabarian bad-Seraz, a suitor for the hand of the only daughter of the King of Balhib. All very romantic. The king wants to industrialise and arm his country and make a great power of it, regardless of Interplanetary Council policies. So he told this bird he could have his daughter and be his successor to the throne if he'd go to Earth and bring back certain things, like that fellow in the myths who had to get the golden apples and things. Herakles, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but what were the things?"
"Oh, first, a fund of technical information adequate to effect an industrial revolution. Second, a group of technicians to teach the Balhibuma what they needed to know about science and engineering. Third, enough money to bribe any I.C. or Viagens people who might try to stop them.
"I think Ghabarian under-estimated the honesty of the I.C.. and the Viagens, but you'll admit he was ingenious in carrying out the plan. For one thing he looked like Koskelainen, and for another he mastered the part of an Earthman almost perfectly. The real Koskelainen was never such a flamboyant character, though. If we take the heels of his shoes apart we'll probably find a whole technical encyclopaedia on microfilm stuffed into them. And by getting this grant from the Institute and enlisting a flock of scientists for service on a far planet he hoped to accomplish his other tasks."
Lawrence said: "How did he expect to get past the physical examinations for Viagens passengers without being found out?"
"The same way he did on the trip in, I suppose. Money."
"You seem to know an awful lot about this, Reggie. How did you find it out?"
Schmidt grinned. "You seem discreet enough. Can you keep something under your hat?"
"I guess so."
"Well, I'm really Erik Koskelainen."
"What?"
"Sure. Chabarian didn't know me at first with my glasses and whiskers."
"Tell me about it?"
"Oh, it's nothing much. When I visited Balhib the king first tried to get me to help him with his scheme. When I wouldn't he threw me in the jug. Then when I pretended to fall in with it in order to get out, he wouldn't trust me. Instead, he sent Chabarian to socialise with me. It wasn't for some time that I got wise to the fact that he was studying me in order to take my place. Don't know how he got to Earth—he must have taken a job at Novorecife in order to study human beings some more.
"Anyway, I escaped from the king's cooler and came back myself. The king had treated me pretty rough so my nerves were shot, and I thought I needed a few months of some quiet job incog, and got this one. I'd told Chabarian about the Institute in the course of a conversation in my cell, so I thought he might show up here sooner or later. Then, when he did, I couldn't denounce him directly without exposing myself, but Magramen took care of that."
They drew up to the laboratory building and got out and let Magramen out of the truck body. Schmidt opened the door with his pass-key, and led the way down the corridor towards the Dzlieri's stall. Magramen clattered behind, peering into the empty offices.
Lawrence glanced back at their companion and lowered his voice to ask a final question: "How did you get our equine friend to co-operate so nicely? Poor Prevost has been trying to for months without getting anywhere."
"Simple again. I knew what was making Magramen wild, so I promised him a beautiful blonde."
"What?" cried Lawrence with something like horror. "Jeepers, you can't! I mean it's physically impossible!"
"Can't I?" As they approached the stall a whinny came from within, and there stood a bay mare. Schmidt nudged his subordinate. "Uh—see what I mean?"