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"Well, that explains it." Trigger looked down at the desk a moment, then glanced up and met the Commissioner's eye. She colored slightly. "Incidentally," she said, "I did take the opportunity to apologize to Major Quillan for clipping him a couple this morning. I shouldn't have done that." "He didn't seem offended," said Holati. "No, not really," she agreed.
Ole Major Quillan being bashful! Well now! And that did it. She could feel herself relaxing, slipping down and away, drifting down through her mind ... farther ... deeper ... toward the tiny voice that spoke in such a strange language and still was becoming daily more comprehensible. "Uh, say, Trigger!" Trigger gasped. Her eyes flew open.
NELCHEN THORN, daughter to Hans Thorn, landlord of the Golden Pomegranate, and loves Louis Quillan. And In the Proem, DUKE OF OSMSKIRK. The Dolphin Room of the Golden Pomegranate, an inn at Manneville-en-Poictesme. PROEM:-To Present Mr. Vanringham as Nuntius
"You're safe when you're in one of those things, Belchik!" Quillan said reassuringly. "Wouldn't you feel a little safer there yourself, Lyad? If you say they're not even sure they've killed the creature...." "I probably shall have a cubicle set up here," Lyad said. "But not as protection against a catassin. It would never get past Pilli, for one thing." She looked at Trigger. "Oh, I forgot.
Mihul frowned at the transmitter. "Trigger always had a temper," she said. "She was always obstinate. She was always an individualist and ready to fight for her own rights and anyone else's. But she used to show good sense. She's got one of the highest I.Q.s we ever processed through this place. The way she's acting now doesn't look too rational." "How would she have acted earlier?" Quillan asked.
"But let's shift operations to the fanciest cocktail lounge on this thing before you start. I feel like relaxing a little. For just one girl, you've given us a fairly rough time these last forty-eight hours!" "I'm sorry," Trigger said. "I'll bet," said Quillan. Trigger glanced at the closet.
"I was watching it," Major Quillan said reassuringly from the end of the table. "I would have warned you, but it stopped when it got as far as it is now. That was around five minutes ago." Trigger reached back and gave old Repulsive a cautious pat. "Very lively character! He does feel pleasant to touch. Kitty-cat pleasant! How did you get a lead through him?"
If I'd hauled Inger in, she would never have really forgiven me for it. I had to let her handle it herself. Actually she understands that." "How did it go?" "Her cover reported it was one hell of a good fight for some seconds. If you'd looked closer, you might have just spotted the traces of the shiner Inger gave her. It was a beaut last night." Quillan went white.
In her bedroom, she opened a wall safe and swung out a high-powered transmitter. She switched the transmitter to active. "Yes?" said a voice. "Mihul here," said Mihul. "Quillan or the Commissioner...." "Quillan here," the transmitter said a few seconds later in a different voice, a deep male one. "Go ahead, doll." Mihul grunted.
"Perhaps not," acknowledged Quillan. He grinned. "But I'm a modest man. One fortune's enough for me." "There was a time, you know," Lyad said, "when I was rather afraid it would be necessary to have you killed." Quillan laughed. "There was a time," he admitted, "when I suspected you might be thinking along those lines, First Lady! Didn't lose too much, did you?" "I lost enough!" Lyad said.
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