“Still—” Donal was persisting, when the marshal cut him off in a tone of definite command.

“That will be all!”

“Yes, sir,” said Donal, subsiding. “Then,” said Galt, turning back to Lludrow, “we’ll regard this as a heaven-sent opportunity to cut an arm or two off the fighting strength of the Newton-Cassidan fleet and field force. Go back to your Patrol. I’ll send orders.”

Lludrow inclined his head and was just about to turn and go when there was an interruption—the faint swish of air from one of the big office doors sliding back, and the tap of feminine heels approaching over the polished floor. They turned to see a tall, dazzlingly beautiful woman with red hair coming at them across the office.

“Elvine!” said Galt.

“Not interrupting anything, am I?” she called, even before she came up to them. “Didn’t know you had a visitor.”

“Russ,” said Galt. “You know my sister-in-law’s daughter, The Elvine Rhy? Elvine, this is my Blue Patrol Chief, Russ Lludrow.”

“Very deeply honored,” said Lludrow, bowing.

“Oh, we’ve met—or at least I’ve seen you before.” She gave him her hand briefly, then turned to Donal. “Donal, come fishing with me.”

“I’m sorry,” said Donal. “I’m on duty.”

“No, no,” Galt waved him off with a large hand. “There’s nothing more at the moment. Run along, if you want.”

“At your service, then,” said Donal.

“But what a cold acceptance!” she turned on Lludrow. “I’m sure the Patrol chief wouldn’t have hesitated like that.”

Lludrow bowed again.

“I’d never hesitate where the Rhy was concerned.”

“There!” she said. “There’s your model, Donal. You should practice manners—and speeches like that.”

“If you suggest it,” said Donal.

“Oh, Donal.” She tossed her head. “You’re hopeless. But come along, anyway.” She turned and left; and he followed her.

They crossed the great central hall and emerged into the garden terrace above the blue-green bay of the shallow, inland sea that touched the edges of Galt’s home. He expected her to continue down to the docks, but instead she whirled about in a small arbor, and stood facing him.

“Why do you treat me like this?” she threw at him. “Why?”

“Treat you?” He looked down at her.

“Oh, you wooden man!” Her lips skinned back over her perfect teeth. “What’re you afraid of—that I’ll eat you up?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he asked her quite seriously—and she checked at his answer.

“Come on. Let’s go fishing!” she cried, and whirled about and ran down toward the dock.