Wyst: Alastor 1716 (17 page)

“After a bit, when the elbowing subsides.”

“Be sure to try the pickles. Here, take this one. Isn’t it
wonderful? The whole inside of my mouth tingles.”

“Yes, it’s very good.”

“You’d better hurry or there’ll be none left.”

“I don’t care much, one way or the other.”

“Jantiff, you are a strange, strange person! Excuse me while
,I eat.”

Jantiff at last went to the table. He served himself a plate
of food and accepted a second mug of wine from the impassive woman at the keg.
Returning to the bench he found that Tanzel already had devoured the contents
of her platter. “You have an excellent appetite!” said Jantiff.

“Of course! I’ve been starving myself for two days. So now,
more chobchows? Or another portion of those delicious pepper pancakes? Or
should I wait until the meat is served out?”

“If I were you rd wait,” said Jantiff. “Then you can go back
for whatever you like the best.”

“I believe you’re right. Oh, Jantiff, isn’t this exciting? I
wish times like these would go on forever. Jantiff! Are you listening?”

“Yes indeed.” Jantiff had in fact been distracted by a
rather odd incident. Off to the side Esteban stood talking to the gypsy hetman.
Esteban gestured with his mug, and both turned to look in Jantiff’s direction.
Jantiff feigned inattention, but a thrill ran along his nerves.

Someone had approached. Jantiff looked up to find Skorlet
standing beside him. “Well, Jantiff? How goes the boater?”

“Very well. I like these little sausages—although I can’t
help but wonder what goes into them.”

Skorlet gave a bark of harsh laughter. “Never ask, never
wonder! If it’s savory, eat every morsel! Remember, it all flushes down the
same drain in the end.”

“Yes, no doubt you’re right”

“Eat hearty, Jantiff!” Skorlet returned to the table and
filled her platter for the third time. Jantiff watched from the corner of his
eye, not altogether happy with her manner. Now he saw Esteban saunter across
the clearing to where Skorlet stood devouring her food. Esteban spoke a question
into her ear; Skorlet, her mouth full, shrugged, and managed to utter a reply.
Esteban nodded and continued his circuit around the fringes of the group.

He halted beside Jantiff. “Well, how goes it? Is everything
to your satisfaction?”

“Exactly so,” said Jantiff guardedly.

“All I want to know,” declared Tanzel, “is when we can come
again!”

“Aha! We mustn’t become guttricks, with thought for nothing
but food!”

“Of course not; still—”

Esteban laughed and patted her head. “We’ll make plans,
never fear. So far, it’s been a great success, eh?”

“It’s all wonderful.”

‘Well, don’t fill up too soon. There’s more to come.
Jantiff, have you taken photographs?”

“Not yet.”

“My dear Jantiff! The banquet table: loaded, aromatic, inviting!
You missed that?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And our picturesque hosts? Their magnificent faces, so
placid and remote? Their boisterous breeches and pointed boots? Ah, then, allow
me the use of your camera!”

Jantiff hesitated, “Well, I don’t know. In fact rd prefer
not. You might somehow lose it.”

“By no means! Put that other small escapade out of your
mind; it was only a lark. The camera will be safe, I assure your’

Jantiff reluctantly brought out the instrument.

“Thank you,” said Esteban. “I assume there’s still ample
scope to the matrix?”

“Take as many pictures as you like,” said Jantiff. “It’s a
new matrix.”

Esteban stiffened; his fingers clenched at the camera. “What
of the other matrix?”

“It was almost full,” said Jantiff. “I didn’t want to risk losing
it.”

Esteban stood silent “Where is this old matrix? Are you
carrying it with your’

Surprised by the blunt question, Jantiff raised his eyes to
find Esteban glowering in obvious annoyance. Jantiff spoke with cold
politeness: “Why do you ask? I can’t account for your interest!”

Esteban. tried to throttle the fury in his own voice, without
success. “Because there are pictures of mine on that matrix, as you’re
perhaps aware.”

“You need not worry,” said Jantiff. “The matrix is absolutely
safe.”

Esteban recovered his aplomb. “In that, case I’m quite content.
Aren’t you drinking? This is Houlsbeima wine; they’ve done famously for us today.”

“I’ll have more presently.”

“Do so, by all means!” Esteban sauntered away. A few minutes
later Jantiff saw him conferring first with Skorlet, then Sarp.

Discussing the and the matrix, thought Jantiff. Here was
surely the reason for Skorlet’s urgency in connection with the camera
.
She
and Esteban were interested in the matrix. But why? Enlightenment broke
suddenly upon Jantiff: of course! Upon the matrix were imprinted images of the
fourth man! .

Jantiff shook his head in sad self-recrimination: after recovering
his camera from Esteban he had never thought to examine the matrix. What’ a
foolish oversight! Of course, at the time there had been no particular
reason to do so; he lacked all interest hi Esteban’s activities. Now the situation
was different! Lucky the matrix was locked securely in his strong box! Which
stimulated a new and chilling thought:

Sarp still knew the code, since Jantiff had never thought to
change it. Immediately upon his return to Uncibal he must rectify this
oversight!

The gypsies ordered the table, then, taking the meat from
the fire, arranged it upon long wooden platters. One of the women poured sauce
over the meat; another set out crusty loaves; a third brought forth a great
wooden bowl of salad. All then returned to the forest shadows.

Esteban called: “Everyone to the table! Eat as you’ve never
eaten before! For once, we’re all guttricks together!”

The bonterfesters surged forward, with Jantiff, as usual,
bringing up the rear.

Half an hour later the group sprawled lethargic and sated
around the meadow. Esteban roused himself to croak in a rich glottal voice: “Everyone
remember: the sweet is still to come! White millicent cake in flower
syrup! Don’t give up now!”

From the group came groans of protest. “Show us mercy,
Esteban!”

“What? Are there no more courses?’

“Bring my ration of gruff!”

“With wobbly to fill in the chinks!”

The gypsies passed among the group serving out portions of
pastry with mugs of verbena tea. They then set about packing together their
equipment.

Tanzel whispered to Jantiff, “I’ve got to go off in the
woods.”

“In that case, go, by all means.”

Tanzel grimaced. “That person Booch has been making himself
gallant. I don’t want to go alone; he’s sure to follow.”

“Do you really think so?’

“Yes indeed! He watches my every move.”

Jantiff, glancing around the clearing, saw that Booch’s eyes
were fixed upon Tanzel with more than casual interest “Oh, very well; I’ll come
with you. Lead the way.”

Tanzel rose to her feet and moved off toward the forest.
Gooch rather sluggishly bestirred himself, but Jantiff quickly went after
Tanzel, and Booth glumly subsided into his position of rest.

Jantiff caught up with Tanzel in the shade of the sprawling
elms. “Just this way a bit,” said Tanzel, and presently: “You wait here; I won’t
be long.”

She disappeared into the foliage. Jantiff sat upon a fallen tree
and looked off through the forest. The sounds from the clearing already had
muted to inaudibility. Bars of Dwanlight slanted down through the foliage, to
shatter upon the forest floor. How far seemed the vast cities of Arrabus! Jantiff
mused upon the circumstances of his life at Uncibal, and the folk he had come
to know: for the most part Old Pinkers. Poor proud Kedidah, going dazed and
humiliated to her death! And Tanzel: whatever might she hope to achieve? He
looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Tanzel returning from her errand.
But the glade was vacant. Jantiff composed himself to wait.

Three minutes passed. Jantiff became restless and jumped to
his feet. Surely she should have returned by now! He called: “Tanzel!”

No response.

Odd.

Jantiff went off into the shrubbery, looking left and right.
“Tanzel! Where are you?”

He saw a fresh mark on the turf which might have been a
footprint, and nearby, in damp lichen, what might that series of parallel
scratches signify? Jantiff came to a halt, in utter perplexity. He looked
quickly over his shoulder, then licked his lips and called once more, but his
voice was little more than a cautious croak: “Tamer Either she was lost, or she
had returned to the bonterfest by a different route.

Jantiff retraced his steps to the clearing. He looked here
and there. The gypsies had departed with all their gear. Tan-n! was nowhere to
be seen.

Esteban saw Jantiff. His face sagged in blank dismay. Jantiff
approached him: “Tanzel went off into the forest: I can’t find her anywhere.”

Skorlet came running forward, eyes distended, to show white
rims around the glaring black. “What’s this, what’s this? Where’s Tanzel?”

“She went off into the woods,” stammered Jantiff, awed by
Skorlet’s face. “I’ve looked for her and called but she’s gone!”

Skorlet emitted a horrid squeal. “The gypsies have taken
her! Oh, they have taken her! This vile bonterfest, and now there’ll be
another!”

Esteban, jerking her elbow, spoke through clenched teeth: “Control
yourself!”

—We have eaten Tanzel!” bawled Skorlet. “Where is the
difference? Today? Tomorrow?” She lifted her face to the sky and yelled forth a
howl so wild that Jantiff’s knees went limp.

Esteban, his own face gray, shook Skorlet by the shoulders. “Come
along! We can catch them at the river!” He turned and called to the others: “The
gypsies have taken Tanzel! Everyone after them! To the river; we’ll stop their
boat!”

The erstwhile bonterfesters lurched off after Esteban and
Skorlet. Jantiff followed a few steps, but could not control the spasmodic
pumping of his stomach. He veered off the path, and, only half conscious, fell
to his knees, where he vomited, again and again.

Someone nearby was moaning a weird song of two alternating
tones. Jantiff presently became aware that the sound proceeded from himself. He
crawled a few yards across the dark mold and lay flat. The shuddering in his
stomach became intermittent.

His mouth tasted sour and oily; and he remembered the sauce
which had been poured over the meat. Again his organs twisted and squeezed,
but he could bring up only a thin acrid gruel, which he spat to the ground. He
rose, to his feet, looked blearily here and there, then returned to the path.
From the distance came shouts and calls, to which Jantiff paid no heed.

Through a gap in the foliage he glimpsed the river. He
picked his way to the water’s edge, rinsed his mouth, bathed his face, then
slumped down upon a chunk of driftwood.

Along the trail returned the bonterfesters, mumbling disconsolately
to each other. Jantiff hauled himself to his feet, but as he started back toward
the trail he heard first Skorlet’s voice, then Esteban’s baritone mutter; they
had turned off the trail and were coming toward him.

Jantiff halted, appalled at the prospect of meeting Skorlet
and Esteban face to face in this isolated spot. He jerked himself behind a
clump of polyptera and stood in concealment.

Esteban and Skorlet passed by and went to the water’s edge,
where they peered up and down the river.

“Nowhere in sight,” croaked Esteban. “By now they’re halfway
to Aotho.”

“I can’t understand,” cried Skorlet tremulously. “Why should
they hoodwink you; why play you false?”

Esteban hesitated. “It can only be a misunderstanding, a
terrible blunder. The two were sitting together. I spoke to the hetman and made
my wishes known. He looked across and asked, as if in doubt: ‘That young one
yonder? The stripling?’ Never thinking of Tanzel, I assured him: ‘Exactly so!’
The hetman took the younger of the two. Such are the bitter facts.

I will now purge them from my mind and you must do the same.”

For a space Skorlet said nothing. Then she spoke in a voice
harsh with strain: “So what now—with him?”

“First the matrix. Then I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”

“You’ll have to be quick,” said Skorlet tonelessly.

“Events are under control. Three days remain.”

Skorlet looked out across the river. “Poor little creature.
So dear and gay. I can’t bear to think of her. But the thoughts come.”

“No help for it now,” said Esteban, his own voice uncertain.
“We can’t become confused. Too much hangs in the balance.”

“Yes. Too much. Sometimes I am staggered by the scope.”

“Now then! Don’t create bugbears! The affair is simplicity—itself.”

“The Connatic is a very real bugbear.”

“The Connatic sits in his tower Lusz, brooding and dreaming.
If he comes to Arrabus, we’ll prove him as mortal as the next man.”

“Esteban, don’t speak the words aloud.”

‘The words must be spoken. The thoughts must be thought. The
plans must be planned. The deeds must. be done.”

Skorlet stared out across the water. Esteban turned away. “Put
her out of your mind. Come.”

“The cursed stranger lives, and poor little Twit is gone.”

“Come,” said Esteban shortly.

The two went up the path. Jantiff presently followed, walking
like a somnambulist.

The bonterfesters returned to Uncibal in a mood greatly in
contrast to that in which they had set out. Aside from one or two muttered
conversations, the group rode in silence. Skorlet and Esteban sat grimly erect,
looking neither right nor left;

Jantiff watched them in covert fascination, his skin crawling
at the thought of their conversation. They had meant him to be taken and
dragged away by the mournful-eyed gypsies. At the contractor’s depot Esteban
went off with Booch to the dispatcher’s office. Jantiff took advantage of the
occasion to slip quietly away from the group He jumped aboard the
man-way and rode north, walking and trotting .to increase his speed. Every few
moments he looked back even though no one could possibly be so close on his
heels. He gave a nervous laugh: in truth he was frightened, and no denying the
fact. By sheer chance he had stumbled upon something awful, and now his very existence
was threatened: Esteban had left him in no doubt of this.

The Great Southern Adit intercepted Uncibal River; Jantiff
diverted eastward, and as before traveled at the best speed possible: pushing
through the crowds, sidling and side-stepping, trotting when space opened
before him
.
He diverted from Uncibal River along Lateral 26, and
presently arrived at Old Pink.

Jantiff loped into the block, across the foyer, into the ascensor.
Its familiar musty reek already seemed alien, and no longer part of his life.
He alighted at the nineteenth level, raced around the corridor to his
apartment.

He entered, and stood stock-still an instant, to pant and organize
his thoughts. He glanced around the room. Kedidah’s belongings already appeared
to show a thin film of dust. How remote she seemed! A week from now she would
be gone from memory; that was the way of Uncibal. Jantiff quietly closed the
door and made sure of the lock; then he went to his strongbox in the bedroom
and opened the door. Into his pouch he packed ozols, family amulet, pigments,
applicators and a pad of paper. Into one pocket he tucked his passage-voucher,
personal certificate and tokens; the matrix he hefted in his hand, glancing
toward the door. Urgency struggled with curiosity. Surely he had a few moments;
the boater—festers rode Uncibal River far to the west. Time for a quick
look. He slid the new matrix from the camera, inserted the old, turned the
switch to “Project” and pointed the camera at the wall.

Images: the blocks of Uncibal, dwindling in perspective; the
crowds of Uncibal River; the mudflats and Disjerferact. Old Pink: the facade,
the foyer, the roof garden. More faces: the Whispers addressing an audience; Skorlet
with Tanzel, with Esteban, Skorlet alone. Kedidah with Sarp, Kedidah in the
refectory, Kedidah laughing, Kedidah pensive.

Then Esteban’s photographs during his custody of the camera:
persons known and unknown to Jantiff; copies of pictures from a red reference
volume; a sequence of shots of a heavy-shouldered dark-haired man wearing a
black blouse and breeches, ankle boots and short-billed cap. This was the man
of the secret meeting. Jantiff studied the face. The features were blunt and
uncompromising; the eyes, narrow under black eyebrows, gleamed with shrewdness.
Somewhere and recently, Jantiff had seen such a face; or one very similar.,
Frowning in concentration, Jantiff stared at the face. Could it be—

Jantiff jerked around as someone pushed at the door latch
and then, failing to secure ingress, rapped sharply on the panel. Jantiff
instantly turned off the projector. He removed the matrix, fingered it
indecisively, then tucked it into his pocket.

Again a rap at the door, and a voice, muffled behind the
panel: “Open up!” Esteban’s voice, harsh and hostile. Jantiff’s heart sank. How
had Esteban arrived so soon?

“I know you’re there,” came the voice. “They told me below.
Open up!”

Jantiff approached the door. “I’m tired,” he called out. “Go
away. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I want to see you now. It’s important.”

“Not to me.”

“Oh, yes! Important indeed.” The words carried sinister
import, thought Jantiff. In a hollow voice Jantiff called: “What’s so important?”

“Open up.”

“Not just now. I’m going to bed.”

A pause. Then, “As you like.”

Silence from the hall. Jantiff put his ear to the door. Ten
seconds passed, twenty seconds, then Jantiff sensed the diminishing pad of
steps. He threw a slantwise glance over his shoulder in farewell to the room,
with its ghosts and dead voices. Picking up his pouch and camera he slid back
the door and peered out into the corridor.

Empty.

Jantiff emerged, closed the door and set off toward the
lift, uncomfortably aware that he must pass in front of Apartment D-18, where now
lived Skorlet and Sarp.

The door to Apartment D-18 was closed. Jantiff lengthened his
stride and ran past on springing tiptoe paces, like a dancer miming
stealth.

The door to D-18 slid back. Esteban and Sarp emerged.
Esteban, looking back into D-18, made a final remark to Skorlet.

Jantiff tried to glide soundlessly up the corridor, but
Sarp, peering past Esteban’s elbow, noticed him. Sarp tugged at Esteban’s arm.
Esteban swung, about. “Wait! Jantiff! Come back here!”

Jantiff paid no heed. He raced to the descensor, touched the
button. The door opened; Jantiff stepped aboard. The door closed almost upon
Esteban’s distorted face. In his hand shone the glint of metal.

With heart pounding Jantiff descended to the’ ground floor.
He loped across the foyer, out the portal, and away to the man-way.

Sarp and Esteban emerged from Old Pink. They paused, looked
right and left, saw Jantiff, and came in pursuit Jantiff bounded recklessly
across to the crowded high-speed lane, where, he thrust forward past other
passengers, heedless of their annoyance, pouch and camera still gripped in his
hand. After came Esteban, with Sarp lagging behind. The blade in Esteban’s hand
was plainly visible. Jantiff lurched ahead, eyes starting from his head in
disbelief. Esteban meant to kill him! On the man-way, in full view of the
passengers? Impossible! It wouldn’t be allowed! People would help him; they
would restrain Esteban!… Or would they? As Jantiff lunged forward he looked
despairingly right and left but met only expressions of glazed annoyance.

Esteban, shouldering ahead, even more roughly than Jantiff,
gained ground. Jantiff could see his intent expression, the glitter of his
eyes. Jantiff stumbled and lurched to the side; Esteban was upon him, knife
raised high. Jantiff seized a tall sharp-featured woman and pushed her into
Esteban. In a rage she snatched out at Jantiff and tore away his pouch; Jantiff
relinquished pouch and camera and fled, heedful only of his own life. Behind
came the remorseless Esteban.

At the diversion upon Uncibal River the way was open and
Jantiff gained a few yards, only to lose it almost at once among the crowds.
Sidling, elbowing, shoving, buffeting, Jantiff thrust his way through the protesting
folk. Twice Esteban approached close enough to brandish his blade; the folk
nearby called out in fear and pushed pell-mell to escape. Jantiff on each occasion
managed to evade the attack, once through a spasmodic spurt of agility, again
by pushing a man into Esteban’s path, so that both fell and Jantiff was able to
gain ten yards running room. Someone, either inadvertently or through malice,
tripped Jantiff; he fell flat and once again Esteban was on him. As the riders
of Uncibal River watched to observe the outcome, Jantiff kicked Esteban in the
groin, rolled frantically aside. Clambering to his feet he swung a short square
woman screaming into Esteban, who fell on top of the woman. The knife jarred
free; Jantiff groped to pick it up, but the woman hit him in the face, and
Esteban reached the, knife first. Croaking in despair Jantiff sprang away and
Bed along the River.

Esteban was tiring. He called out: “Snerge! Snerge! Hold the
snerge!” Folk turned to look back and observing Jantiff stood quickly aside.
Esteban’s calls therefore worked to Jantiff’s benefit, and he lengthened his
lead. Esteban presently stopped shouting.

Ahead Uncibal River intersected Lateral 16. Jantiff veered
to the side as if intending to divert; instead, he crouched behind a knot of
folk and let himself be carried along the River. Esteban, deceived, rushed out
the diversion to the lateral and so lost his quarry.

At the next switch-over, Jantiff reversed direction and rode
back to the east, keeping sharp lookout to all sides. He discovered no
evidence of pursuit: only the faces of Uncibal, rank on rank, back along the
River.

His pouch was gone with all his owls, and likewise his
camera. Jantiff gave a great shuddering groan of fury; he cursed Esteban with
all the invective at his command and swore restitution for himself. What an
abominable day! From now and into the, future things would go differently!

Where Uncibal River made its great swerve toward the
spaceport, Jantiff continued toward Alastor Centrality. With a sense of
deliverance he passed under the black and gold portal, crossed the compound
and entered the agency. The clerk, Clode, in the black and beige of the
Connatic’s Service, rose to his feet. Jantiff cried out: “I am Jantiff Ravensroke
of Zeck! I must see the cursar at once!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the clerk. “This is impossible at the
moment.”

Jantiff stared aghast. “Impossible? Why?”

“The cursar is not presently in Uncibal.”

Jantiff barely restrained a cry of anguish. He looked over his
shoulder. The compound was empty. “Where is he? When will he return?”

“He has gone to Waunisse; he counsels the Whispers before
they leave for Numenes. He returns Aensday with the Whispers aboard the
Sea
Dirk.”

“Aensday? Three days from now! What will I do till then? I’ve
discovered a dangerous plot against the Connatic!”

Clods looked dubiously sideways at Jantiff. “If such is the case,
the cursar must be informed as soon as possible.”

“If I survive until Aensday. I have no place to go.”

“What of your apartment?”

“It’s not safe for me. Why can’t I stay here?”

“The chambers are locked. I can’t let you in.”

Jantiff darted another glance over his shoulder. “Where
shall I go?”

“I can only suggest the Travelers Inn.”

“But my money is gone; it’s been taken from me!”

“You need not pay your bill until Aensday. The cursar will
surely advance you funds.”

Jantiff gave a glum nod. He thought carefully and brought
the matrix from his pocket. “Please give me paper.”

Clode tendered paper and stylus. Jantiff wrote:

This is the matrix from my camera. Certain of the pictures indicate
a plot. The Connatic himself may be threatened. The people responsible live in
Old Pink, Block 17-882. Their names are Esteban, Skorlet and Sarp. There is
another unknown person. I will return Aensday unless I am killed.

Jantiff Ravensroke,
Frayness, Zeck.

Jantiff wrapped the message around the matrix and handed the
parcel to Clode. “This must be kept safe and delivered to the cursar at the
earliest opportunity! In the event that I—” here Jantiff’s voice quavered a
trifle—“that I am killed, will you do this?”

“Certainly, sir, I’ll do my very best.”

“Now I must go, before someone thinks to look for me here.
Inform no one of my whereabouts!”

Clode managed a strained grin. “Naturally not.”

Jantiff slowly turned away, reluctant to leave the relative
security of the Centrality. But no help for it: he must immure himself in the
Travelers Inn until Aensday, and all would be well.

In the shadows under the portal he halted and surveyed
the-territory beyond. He spied Esteban immediately, not fifty yards distant,
striding purposefully toward the Centrality. Jantiff’s jaw dropped in consternation.
He shrank back into the compound and pressed himself to, the inner surface of
the portal. There, holding his breath, he waited.

Footsteps. Esteban marched past and away across the compound.
As soon as Jantiff saw the retreating back he slipped through the portal and
raced away on long fleet-footed strides toward the man-way.

“Hey! Jantiff!” Esteban’s furious cry struck at his back. As
Jantiff stepped aboard the man-way he looked over his shoulder, to find that
Esteban had halted at the portal to stand swaying, as if in response to conflicting
urgencies.

Jantiff wondered what might have ensued had the cursar been
on hand.

Jantiff jumped across to the speed lane. He looked back to
catch a last glimpse of Esteban, still under the portal, then was carried past
the range of vision.

At the Travelers Inn Jantiff signed the register as Arlo Jorum
of Pharis, Alastor 458. Without comment the clerk assigned him a chamber.

Jantiff bathed and stretched himself out on his couch, aware
of aching muscles and comprehensive fatigue. He closed his eyes; the three days
to Aensday would pass most rapidly in sleep.

Jantiff inhaled and exhaled several deep breaths. Circumstances
at last were under control. The Travelers Inn at the very least provided
security; if Esteban offered offense, Jantiff need merely notify the Mutuals
[30]
on duty at the inn.

‘Jana opened his eyes, blinked and grimaced and closed them
again. Images from across the terrible day passed before his eyes; Jantiff
writhed on the couch.

His stomach began to gripe; Jantiff sat erect He needed
food. Dressing, he went down to the cafeteria where he made a meal of gruff,
deedle, and a bowl of wobbly, which he charged to his account.

The public address system, which had been projecting a series
of lethargic popular tunes, suddenly enunciated a bulletin:

“Attention all! Take note of a heinous murder, just reported to
the Uncibal Mutuality. The assassin is one Jantiff Ravensroke, a probationary
visitor, originally of Zeck. He is a man of early maturity, tall, slender, with
dark hair worn nondescript. He has a thin face, a long nose and eyes noticeably
green in color. The Mutuals urgently require that he be held in detention,
pending full investigation of his foul act A search at the highest level of intensity
is already being prosecuted. Egalists all! Keep a vigilant watch for this dangerous
alien!”