“Not today, sir. I’mlayingoff smoking for awhile.Sharpening up the old eye.Keeping the old trigger finger limber and ready for action.”

The Count’s mind was occupied elsewhere and I doubt if he heard a word I said. He chewed abstractedly at the inside of his cheek while he looked me up and down. A decision finally struggled up through his half-clotted brain.

“What do you know about the Radebrechen family?” he asked, which is about as exotic a question as I have ever had thrown at me.

Absolutely nothing,” I answered truthfully. “Should I?”

“No… no…” he answered vaguely, and went back to chewing his cheek. I was getting high just from breathing the air in the room and I wondered how be was feeling.

“Come with me,” he said, pushing over his chair and almost falling on top of it. We plodded through a number of halls deeper into the building, until we came to a door, no different from the ones we had passed, except this one had a guard in front of it—a rough looking brawny type with his arms casually crossed. Just casual enough to let his fingers hang over his pistol grip. He didn’t budge when we came up.

“It’s all right,” the Duke of Rdenrundt said, with what I swear was a peevish tone. “He’s with me.”

“Gotta search him anyway,” the guard said.“Orders.”More and more interesting.Who issued orders the Count couldn’t change—in his own castle? As if I didn’t know. And I recognized the guard’svoice,he was one of the men who had taken me from my prison cell. He searched me quickly and efficiently,thenstepped aside. The Count opened the door and I followed him in, trying not to tread on his heels.

One thing about reality—it is always so much superior to theory. I had every reason to believe that Angelina would be here, yet it was still a healthy shock to see her sitting at the table. A kind of electric charge in my spine tingled right up to the roots of my hair. This was a moment I had waited for for a very long time. It took a positive effort to relax and appear indifferent. At least as indifferent as any healthy young male is in front of an attractive package of femininity.

Of course this girl didn’t resemble Angelina very much. Yet I still had no doubt. The face was changed as was the color of the hair. And though the face was a new one it still held the same sweet, angelic quality as the old. Her figure was much the way I remembered it, with perhaps a few slight improvements. Hers was a surface transformation, with no attempt at being as complete as the one I had had done to me.

“This is s Grav Bent Diebstall,” the count said, fixing his hot and smoky little eyes on her. “The man you wanted to see, Engela.” So she was still an angel, though under a different name. That was a bad habit she should watch, only I wasn’t going to tell her. A lot of people have been caught by taking an alias too similar to their old one.

“Why thank you, Cassitor,” she said. Cassitor indeed! I’d look unhappy too if I had to go through life with a handle like Cassitor Rdenrundt. “It was very nice of you to bring Grav Bent here,“ sheadded in the same light and empty voice.

Cassi must have been expecting a warmer welcome because he stood first on one foot and then another and mumbled something which neither of us heard. But Angelina-Engela’s welcome stayed at the same temperature, or perhaps dropped a degree or two as she shuffled some papers on the table in front of her. Even through his fog the Count caught on and went out mumbling something else under his breath that I was pretty sure was one of the shorter and more unwholesome words in the local dialect. We were alone.

“Why did you tell all those lies about being in the Stellar Guard,” she asked in a quiet voice, apparently still busy at the papers. This was my cue to smile sardonically, and flick some imaginary dust from my sleeve.

“Well I certainly couldn’t tell all those nice people what I’ve really been doing all these years I have been away, could I?” I responded with wide-eyed simplicity.

“What were youdoing.Bent?” she asked and there wasn’t a trace of any emotion in her voice.

“That’s really my business, isn’t it,” I told her, matching toneless tone for tone. “And while we’re asking questions, I would like to know who you are, and bow come you seem to throw more weight around than the great Count Cassitor?” I’m good at playing this kind of guessing game. But Angy was just as good and dragged the conversation back to her own grounds.

“Since I am in the stronger position here, I think you’ll find it wise to answer my questions. Don’t be afraid of shocking me. You would be surprised at the things I know about.”

No, Angelica love, I wouldn’t be surprised at all. But I couldn’t just tell all without a little resistance. “You’re the one behind this revolution idea, aren’t you,” I said as a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” she said, laying her cards on the table soshe[?] could see mine.

“Well if you must know then,” I said, “I was smuggling. It is a very interesting occupation if you happen to know what to take where. For a number of years I found it was a most lucrative business. Finally though, a number of governments felt I was giving them unfair competition, since they were the only ones allowed to cheat the public. With the pressure on I returned to my sluggish native land for a period of rest.”

Angel-mine was buying no sealed packages and gave me an exhaustive cross-examination into my smuggling career that showed she had more than a passing knowledge of the field herself. I had of course no trouble answering her questions, since in my day I haveturned,many a megacredit in this illegal fashion. The only thing I was afraid of was making it too good, so I described a career of a successful but still young and not too professional operator. All the time I was talking I tried to live the role and believe everything I said. This was a crucial time when I must let drop no hints or mannerisms that might bring Slippery Jim diGriz to her mind. I had to be the local punk who had made good and was still on my way up in the universe.

Mind you—our talk was of course all most casual, and carried on in an atmosphere of passing drinks and lighting cigarettes all designed to relax me enough to make a few slips. I did of course, slipping in a lie or two about my successes that she would catch and credit to boyish enthusiasm. When the chitchat slowed I tried a question of my own.

“Would you mind telling me what a local family named Radebrechen has to do with you?”

“What makes you ask?” she said so calm and coolly.

“Your smiling friend Cassitor Rdenrundt asked me about them before we came here. I told him I knew nothing. What’s their connection with you?”

“They want to kill me,” she said.

“That would be a shame—and a waste,” I told her with my best come-hither grin. She ignored it. “What can I do about it?” I asked, going back to business, since she didn’t seem interested in my masculine attractions.

“I want you to be my bodyguard,” she said, and when I smiled and opened my mouth to speak she went on, “and please spare me any remarks about how it is a body you would like to guard. I get enough of that from Cassitor.”

“All I wanted to say was that I accepted the position,” which was a big lie because I had had some such phrase in mind. It was hard to stay ahead of Angelina and I mustn’t relax for an instant I reminded myself again. “Just tell me about the people who are out to kill you.”

“It seems that Count Rdenrundt was married,” Angelicious said, toying with her glass in a simple, girlish way. “His wife committed suicide in a very stupid and compromising manner. Herfamily—who are of course the Radebrechen—think I killed her, and want to revenge her supposed murder by killing me in turn. Apparently in this lost corner of Freibur the vendetta still has meaning, and this family of rich morons still subscribe to it.”