“Then you got a free pass to fertilize my flowers for a full month.”

“I visited your garden last night,” said Cain. “It needs weeding.”

“What are you quibbling about?” demanded Gentry. “How long have you been on the Frontier, Cain?”

“Eleven years.”

“In all that time, have you ever met anyone who’s seen Santiago? Here I am offering you what you ain’t never found before, for maybe a tenth of what you just picked up on Praeteep, and you’re haggling like some Dabih fur trader! If you’re gonna just sit there and insult the most beautiful blossoms on the Frontier and haggle with an old man who ain’t got the stamina to haggle back, we ain’t going to be able to do no business.”

Cain stared at him for a moment, then spoke.

“I’ll tell you what, old man. I’ll give you twenty thousand.”

“There’s a catch,” said Gentry suspiciously.

“There’s a condition,” replied Cain. “You don’t supply the name to anyone else.”

Gentry frowned. “Ever?”

“For six months.”

“Make it four.”

“Deal,” said Cain. “And if you’re lying, may God have more mercy on your soul than I will.”

“Ain’t got no reason to lie. Only two more of you fellers due in here in the next four months, which means one of ‘em’s probably dead, and there’s only a fifty-fifty chance the other’d come up with the money. Not everyone makes out as well as you and Sans Pitié.”

“All right. Where do I find this man?”

“I ain’t seen no money yet.”

Cain pulled out a sheaf of bills, peeled off the top twenty, and placed them on the table. Gentry picked them up one at a time, held each up to the light, and finally nodded his head and placed them in his pocket.

“Ever hear of a world named Port étrange?”

Cain shook his head. “Where is it?”

“It’s the seventh planet in the Bellermaine system. That’s where he’ll be.”

“And his name?”

“Stern.”

“How do I locate him?”

“Just pass the word you’re looking for him. He’ll find you.”

“What’s he like?” asked Cain.

“A real sweet feller, once you get used to a couple of his little peculiarities.”

“Such as?”

“Well, he drinks too much and he cheats at cards, and he ain’t real fond of people or animals or aliens, and he out-and-out hates priests and women, and he’s been known to have an occasional disagreement with the constabularies. But taken all in all, he’s no worse than most that you find out here, and probably better’n some.”

“Should I use your name?”

“It ought to get him to sit up and take notice,” said Gentry. “When are you planning on leaving?”

“Tonight,” said Cain, getting to his feet.