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The atmosphere was that of a conference room in which reasonable men could discuss differences of opinion in calm leisure. Only on a world like Walden would a prisoner brought in by police be dealt with in such surroundings. Derec came in by another door, with a man Hoddan recognized as the attorney who'd represented Nedda's father in certain past interviews.
He was, in fact, just what he looked a street stoic. And a dim perception of the great social truth: "The smell of half a loaf is not better than no bread!" flickered in Nedda's brain as she passed on. Was that what Derek was doing with the laborers giving them half the smell of a liberty that was not there? And a sudden craving for her father came over her.
The only thing improbable in his behavior had been that after testing their vigilance with a dummy, he'd made use of it. A fair distance away, he turned sedately into a narrow lane between buildings. This paralleled another lane serving the home of a girl friend of Nedda's. The note had named the garden behind that other girl's home as a rendezvous. But Hoddan was not going to that garden.
Hoddan said desperately: "Fani, I know you hate me, though I can't guess why. But here's a thing that ... has to be taken care of! We made a raid on Walden ... that's where the loot came from ... and my men kidnaped this girl ... her name is Nedda ... and brought her on the ship as a present to me ... because she'd admitted that she knew me! Nedda's in an awful fix, Fani!
The shutting of the door behind her sent a little shiver down Nedda's spine; but the temperature of her soul was rising, and she looked round. Beyond the heavy arch, beneath which she stood, was a courtyard where she could see two men, also in blue, with peaked caps.
There'd been no mention of Nedda as toying with the thought of marrying Hoddan then, of course. It had been strictly business. Nedda's father was Chairman of the Power Board, a director of the Planetary Association of Manufacturers, a committeeman of the Banker's League, and other important things. Hoddan had been thrown out of his offices several times.
He was wrapping tape about the pistol grip when a servant brought him a scribbled note. It had been handed in at the Embassy gate by a woman who fled after leaving it. It looked like Nedda's handwriting. It read like Nedda's phrasing. It appeared to have been written by somebody in a highly emotional state. But it wasn't quite not absolutely convincing. He went to find the ambassador.
What comfort was there in a God so great and universal that he did not care to keep her and Derek alive and loving forever, and was not interested enough to see that the poor old cab-driver should not be haunted day and night with fear of the workhouse for himself and an old wife, perhaps? Nedda's tears fell fast, and how far THIS was Chardonnet no one could tell.
The warder uttered a sound between a grunt and chuckle. "There's some has a better time here than they have out, any day. No doubt about it they're well fed here." Her aunt's words came suddenly into Nedda's mind: 'Liberty's a glorious feast! But she did not speak them.
His heart went out, too, to Tod. How would he himself have felt, walking by the side of policemen whose arms were twisted in Nedda's! But so mixed are the minds of men that at this very moment there was born within him the germ of a real revolt against the entry of his little daughter into this family of hotheads.
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