“My command was a command of mercenaries,” answered Donal, without moving a muscle. “Commandant Killien had given his assurance in accordance with the Mercenaries Code. Not only had his assurance proved false, he himself had neglected his command while in the field and in enemy territory. Indirectly, he had been responsible for the death of over half his men. As ranking field officer present, I had no choice but to arrest him and hold him for trial.”

“A trial held on the spot?”

“It is the code, sir,” said Donal. He paused. “I regret it was necessary to shoot him. The court-martial left me no alternative.”

“Again!” said William. “No alternative! Graeme, the space between the stars does not go to men who can find no alternatives!” He turned about abruptly, walked back around his desk and sat down.

“All right,” he said, coldly but with all the passion gone, “get out of here.” Donal turned and walked toward the door as William picked up a paper from before him. “Leave your address with my doorbot,” said William. “I’ll find some kind of a post for you on some other world.”

“I regret, sir—” said Donal.

William looked up.

“It didn’t occur to me that you would have any further need of me. Marshal Galt has already found me another post.”

William continued to look at him for a long moment. His eyes were as cold as the eyes of a basilisk.

“I see,” he said at last, slowly. ‘‘Well, Graeme, perhaps we shall have something to do with each other in the future.”

“I’ll hope we will,” said Donal. He went out. But, even after he had closed the door behind him, he thought he could feel William’s eyes still coming at him through all the thickness of its panel.

He had yet one more call to make, before his duty on this world was done. He checked the directory out in the corridor and went down a flight.

The doorbot invited him in; and ArDell Montor, as large and untidy as ever, with his eyes only slightly blurred from drink, met him halfway to the entrance.

“You!” said ArDell, when Donal explained what it was he wanted. “She won’t see you.” He hunched his heavy shoulders, looking at Donal; and for a second his eyes cleared. Something sad and kind looked out of them, to be replaced with bitter humor. “But the old fox won’t like it. I’ll ask her.”

“Tell her it’s about something she needs to know,” said Donal.

“I’ll do that. Wait here,” ArDell went out the door.

He returned in some fifteen minutes.

“You’re to go up,” he said. “Suite 1890.” Donal turned toward the door. “I don’t suppose,” said the Newtonian, almost wistfully, “I’ll be seeing you again.”

“Why, we may meet,” answered Donal.

“Yes,” said ArDell. He stared at Donal penetratingly. “We may at that. We may at that.”