“Beck,” he snapped. His voice cracked through the echoing hall. There was dead silence. Every eye turned in his direction.

Inspector Beck faced Powell. In a brutal voice, he said: “Here, sir.”

“Are you in charge. Beck?”

“I am, sir.”

“And is this your concept of the proper conduct of an investigation? To herd a group of innocent people together like cattle?”

“They’re not innocent,” Beck growled. “A man’s been killed.”

“All in this house are innocent, Beck. They will be presumed to be innocent and treated with every courtesy until the truth is uncovered.”

“What?” Beck sneered. “This gang of liars? Treated with courtesy? This rotten, lousy, high-society pack of hyenas…”

“How dare you! Apologize at once.”

Beck took a deep breath and clenched his fists angrily.

“Inspector Beck, did you hear me? Apologize to these ladies and gentlemen at once.”

Beck glared at Powell, then turned to the staring guests. “My apologies,” he mumbled.

“And I’m warning you, Beck,” Powell snapped. “If anything like this happens again, I’ll break you. I’ll send you straight back to the gutter you came from. Now get out of my sight.”

Powell descended to the floor of the hall and smiled at the guests. Suddenly he was again transformed. His bearing conveyed the subtle suggestion that he was at heart one of them. There was even a tinge of fashionable corruption in his diction.

“Ladies and gentlemen: Of course I know you all by sight. I’m not that famous so let me introduce myself. Lincoln Powell, Prefect of the Psychotic Division. Prefect and Psychotic. Two antiquated titles, eh? We won’t let them bother us.” He advanced toward Maria Beaumont with hand outstretched. “Dear Madame Maria, what an exciting climax for your wonderful party. I envy all of you. You’ll make history.”

A pleased rustle ran through the guests. The lowering hostility began to fade. Maria took Powell’s hand dazedly, mechanically beginning to preen herself.

“Madame…” He confused and delighted her by kissing her brow with paternal warmth. “You’ve had a trying time, I know. These boors in uniform.”

“Dear Prefect…” She was a little girl, clinging to his arm. “I’ve been so terrified.”

“Is there a quiet room where we can all be comfortable and endure this exasperating experience?”

“Yes. The study, dear Prefect Powell.” She was actually beginning to lisp.

Powell snapped his fingers behind him. To the Captain who stepped forward, he said: “Conduct Madame and her guests to the study. No guards. The ladies and gentlemen are to be left in privacy.”

“Mr. Powell, sir…” The Captain cleared his throat. “About Madame’s guests. One of them arrived after the felony was reported. An attorney, Mr. ¼maine.”

Powell found Jo ¼maine, Attorney-At-Law 2, in the crowd. He shot him a telepathic greeting.

“Jo?”

“Hi.”

“What brings you to this Blind Tiger?”

“Business. Called by my cli(Ben Reich)ent.”

“That shark? Makes me suspicious. Wait here with Reich. We’ll get squared off.”

“That was an effective act with Beck.”

“Hell. You cracked our scramble?”