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"But did you notice," Hanlon's eyes were cloudy, "he doesn't say a thing anywhere about the part his planet or system were to play in the conquest?" "Yes, I'd noticed that." It was a duet from the two others, and Newton added, "For all there is here, you'd almost feel sure he was playing a lone hand."
"You understand, of course, there will be a short period of ... uh ... checking and testing before we decide to send you out on a job." Hanlon's voice was almost servile, yet confident. "Sure, sir. You name it; I do it." He was still probing with everything he had, but still getting nothing important.
All any of you will be tried for are your actions as regards the Greenies. If brutality against them is proven, you'll be properly punished for that alone." He turned to Philander. "Are the natives all right?" The man looked up hopelessly, unable to believe Hanlon's statement about himself. "How do I know?" his voice was dispirited.
I'll be good while we talk." Hanlon rose, but stood warily as the other slowly climbed to his feet. But he wasn't sharp enough Panek's hand flashed out even before he seemed to be standing erect, and slickly grabbed the wallet from the inside pocket of Hanlon's jacket. But the SS man, seeing what the other was after, stood there without making any resistance.
It takes guts to withstand, publicly and willingly, the dishonor, the loss of friends and the good will of people who know you. It means life-long disgrace in the eyes of the public and those members of the Corps who have ever known you or will hear of you." The blood drained from Hanlon's face, his breathing was quick and rasping.
All right just you wait and Hanlon goes around on a motor-cycle, too!" "He does! Then we are undone! What a revelation! And, now, Fibs, if you'll explain to me the significance of Hanlon's aspiring ambitions and his weird taste for motor-cycles, I'll be obliged." Fibsy was extremely, even absurdly, sensitive to irony.
His voice had risen in pitch until Panek had to grab his arm and shake him to make him keep still. People at the nearer table were beginning to look at them. But Panek was impressed now with Hanlon's sincerity the SS man could read that in his mind. "All right, Pal, all right. Don't bust a gut.
Now he stared straight back into those hard eyes. "Can you dish it out, Mister?" his tone was almost, but not quite, insolent. A black look suffused the leader's face at Hanlon's impertinent "can you dish it out, Mister?" He half-rose from his seat, while the other four men reached quick hands towards their weapons.
His Highness felt the pulse in Hanlon's wrist and the one in his throat. "No, he's still alive." The man stood there in deep thought, his forehead creased with a frown of concentration. "There's something peculiarly wrong here," the Leader finally said aloud. "Something very wrong and very strange. This isn't an ordinary fainting spell. It's ... uh ... beyond my previous experience."
Was there some danger here of which he had not been told ... or was it that the leader's promise of four months' work and then a vacation back to Simonides perhaps meant nothing at all was merely a "come on"? It was more than the perspiration from the terrible heat that dampened Hanlon's skin as he walked thoughtfully over to the store.
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