A laborer within the port looked up from where he stood and muttered briefly into his lapel. He entered the building then and returned to his work. His superintendent frowned and made a mental note to talk to Tip about this habit of lingering outside to smoke cigarettes for half an hour at a time.
Outside the port one of two men in a ground-car said with annoyance, "Got into a car with a girl? What car? What girl?" For all his Sarkite costume, his accent belonged definitely to the Arcturian worlds of the Trantorian Empire.
His companion was a Sarkite, well versed in the visicast news releases. When the car in question rolled through the gate and picked up speed as it began to veer off and upward to the express level, he half rose in his seat and cried, "It's the Lady Samia's car. There isn't another like it. Good Galaxy, what do we do?"
"Follow," said the other briefly.
"But the Lady Samia-"
"She's nothing to me. She shouldn't be anything to you either. Or what are you doing here?"
Their own car was making the turn, climbing upward onto the broad, nearly empty stretches on which only the speediest of ground travel was permitted.
The Sarkite groaned, "We can't catch that car. As soon as she spots us she'll kick out resistance. That car can make two-fifty."
"She's staying at a hundred so far," said the Arcturian.
After a while he said, "She's not going to Depsec. That's for sure."
And after another while he said, "She's not going to the Palace of Fife."
Still another interval and he said, "I'll be spun in space if I know where she's going. She'll be leaving the city again."
The Sarkite said, "How do we know it's the Squire-killer that's in there? Suppose it's a game to get us away from the post. She's not trying to shake us and she wouldn't use a car like that if she didn't want to be followed. You can't miss it at two miles."
"I know, but Fife wouldn't send his girl to get us out of the way. A squad of patrollers would have done the job better."
"Maybe it isn't really the Lady in it."
"We're going to find out, man. She's slowing. Flash past and stop around a curve!"
"I want to speak to you," said the girl.
Terens decided it was not the ordinary kind of trap he had first considered it. She was the Lady of Fife. She must be. It did not seem to occur to her that anyone could or ought to interfere with her.
She had never looked back to see if she were followed. Three times as they turned he had noted the same car to the rear, keeping its distance, neither closing the gap nor falling behind.
It was not just a car. That was certain. It might be Trantor, which would be well. It might be Sark, in which case the Lady would be a decent sort of hostage.
He said, "I'm ready to speak."
She said, "You were on the ship that brought the native from Florina? The one wanted for all those killings?"
"I said I was."
"Very well. Now I've brought you out here so that there'll be no interference. Was the native questioned during the trip to Sark?"
Such naIvetй, Terens thought, could not be assumed. She really did not know who he was. He said guardedly, "Yes."
"Were you present at the questioning?"
"Yes."
"Good. I thought so. Why did you leave the ship, by the way?"
That, thought Terens, was the question she should have asked first of all.
He said, "I was to bring a special report to-" He hesitated. She seized on the hesitation eagerly. "To my father? Don't worry about that. I'll protect you completely. I'll say you came with me at my orders."
He said, "Very well, my Lady."
The words "my Lady" struck deeply into his own consciousness. She was a Lady, the greatest in the land, and he was a Florinian. A man who could kill patrollers could learn easily how to kill Squires, and a Squire-killer might, by the same token, look a Lady in the face.
He looked at her, his eyes hard and searching. He lifted his head and stared down at her.
She was very beautiful.
And because she was the greatest Lady in the land, she was unconscious of his regard. She said, "I want you to tell me everything that you heard at the questioning. I want to know all that was told to you by the native. It's very important."
"May I ask why you are interested in the native, my Lady?"
"You may not," she said flatly.
"As you wish, my Lady."
He didn't know what he was going to say. With half his consciousness he was waiting for the pursuing car to catch up. With the other half he was growing more aware of the face and body of the beautiful girl sitting near him.
Florinians in the Civil Service and those acting as Townmen were, theoretically, celibates. In actual practice, most evaded that restriction when they could. Terens had done what he dared and what was expedient in that direction. At best, his experiences had never been satisfactory.
So it was all the more important that he had never been so near a beautiful girl in a car of such luxuriance under conditions of such isolation.
She was waiting for him to speak, dark eyes (such dark eyes) aflame with interest, full red lips parted in anticipation, a figure more beautiful for being set off in beautiful kyrt. She was completely unaware that anyone, anyone, could possibly dare harbor dangerous thought with regard to the Lady of Fife.
The half of his consciousness that waited for the pursuers faded out.
He suddenly knew that the killing of a Squire was not the ultimate crime after all.
He wasn't quite aware that he moved. He knew only that her small body was in his arms, that it stiffened, that for an instant she cried out, and then he smothered the cry with his lips.
There were hands on his shoulder and the drift of cool air on his back through the opened door of the car. His fingers groped for his weapon, too late. It was ripped from his hand.
Samia gasped wordlessly.
The Sarkite said with horror, "Did you see what he did?"
The Arcturian said, "Never mind!"
He put a small black object into his pocket and smoothed the seam shut. "Get him," he said.
The Sarkite dragged Terens out of the car with the energy of fury. "And she let him," he muttered. "She let him."
"Who are you?" cried Samia with sudden energy. "Did my f ather send you?"
The Arcturian said, "No questions, please."
"You're a foreigner," said Samia angrily.
The Sarkite said, "By Sark, I ought to bust his head in." He cocked his fist.
"Stop it!" said the Arcturian. He seized the Sarkite's wrist and forced it back.
The Sarkite growled sullenly, "There are limits. I can take the Squire-killing. I'd like to kill a few myself, but standing by and watching a native do what he did is just about too much for me."
Samia said in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Native?" The Sarkite leaned forward, snatched viciously at Terens' cap. The Townman paled but did not move. He kept his gaze steadily upon the girl and his sandy hair moved slightly in the breeze.
Samia moved helplessly back along the car seat as far as she could and then, with a quick movement, she covered her face with both hands, her skin turning white under the pressure of her fingers.
The Sarkite said, "What are we going to do with her?"
"Nothing."
"She saw us; She'll have the whole planet after us before we've gone a mile."
"Are you going to kill the Lady of Fife?" asked the Arcturian sarcastically.
"Well, no. But we can wreck her car. By the time she gets to a radio-phone, we'll be all right."
"Not necessary." The Arcturian leaned into the car. "My Lady, I have only a moment. Can you hear me?"
She did not move.
The Arcturian said, "You had better hear me. I am sorry I interrupted you at a tender moment but luckily I have put that moment to use. I acted quickly and was able to record the scene by tri-camera. This is no bluff. I will transmit the negative to a safe place minutes after I leave you and thereafter any interference on your part will force me to be rather nasty. I'm sure you understand me."