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Hilda recovered herself somewhat and sat before the captain, her eyes down, her fluttering hands loose in her lap. "What was the trouble between you and him?" Hanlon asked her presently in a not unkindly tone. "Must I tell?" pleaded Hilda, looking piteously at the captain. "I don't know anything about this except that he came into our store and told me he was going to to "
Hanlon was pleased, but not especially surprised, to note that the rest of the crew now almost entirely without his supervision worked harder than ever, and that their daily output of ore grew progressively greater each shift, and all clean ore.
That was the night he, knowing that Hanlon had been the last at the compound, sneaked out and unlocked all the gates. He figured, of course, that it would be apparent to everyone that it was Hanlon's rank carelessness that had allowed all the Greenies to escape. But to the surprise of everyone except Hanlon not a single one had left; all were inside their huts the next morning.
As he got out of the cab, and gave orders to the doorman about keeping his luggage until he was ready to leave, Hanlon was heartened to see Hooper, apparently reading a newsheet, leaning against the terrace-facade nearby. In the back room the leader and three others, including the ubiquitous Panek, were waiting for him. He was handed an envelope.
That last crack about "you'd better pray that 'he' likes you," was almost sure proof. But what did it mean? Who was this "he," and why had Hanlon better pray "he" liked him? Probably the leader ... and if so, undoubtedly a dangerous man to play around with. Hanlon remembered the fear of his boss he'd read in Panek's mind. Also, what about Abrams?
They had nearly finished eating when their waiter brought a portable visiphone to the table. "A call for you, Mr. Hanlon," and he plugged the set into a wall-socket. Hanlon flipped the switch and saw Admiral Hawarden's face smiling from the screen. "We got the freighter just a few minutes ago," he reported.
By sheer weight he bore Hanlon back across the floor, and got in a couple of heavy blows. Hanlon's right cheek was badly bruised, and that eye almost closed. But he was fighting methodically, almost viciously. He was in and out, slashing and ripping Gorton's face to shreds.
Hanlon then tried to see if he could get into the deeper parts of the dog's mind, and using what knowledge of the technique he had deduced in his previous though unsuccessful attempts with humans, found after many more anxious minutes he could follow the thought-and-memory tracks back and back until the dog's whole mind was open to him.
The preliminaries had taken place on a platform, hastily built for the occasion, and now, with Mortimer behind him, Hanlon started down the steps to the street. Reaching the pavement, he stood motionless for a few seconds and then, turning, walked toward Broad Street. Reaching it, he turned South, and walked along, at a fairly rapid gait.
To which Hanlon replied, that "he had been thinkin' about that, an' had some talk, this mornin', wid a man that's livin' a long time indeed, that was born a little above the place, an' he says that the Black Prophet, or M'Gowan, did not come to the neighborhood till afther the murdher."
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