Women! Oh, his mother had taught him well. They were trouble!

He thought fast. He glanced at his Omega watch and saw that he only had about two hours left of the day. He thought faster. Suddenly, he said, "Fly me to Government City, Royal Courts and Prison!"

"What the blazes? Chief, are you all right? Did High-tee run you out of your head?"

"It's another woman. An almost-woman."

"Look, Chief, we were just lucky getting in and out of the Domestic Confederacy Prison. You get near a Royal Prison and that's that!"

"Fly!" said Madison.

They flashed above the traffic lanes and lanced along toward Government City.

Madison soon saw the forbidding structure. It was perched upon a craggy hill, a fortress disdainful and aloof from the mundane matters of the worlds.

Flick didn't land in any courtyard: that was forbidden to anyone except the Emperor. Instead he landed on the sloping road outside its gates. He wouldn't move any nearer than a steep one hundred yards.

"Good-bye, Chief" said Flick. "It was great while it lasted."

"Shut up," said Madison. He got out and toiled up the pavement. It was heavy going for him, due to the increased gravity.

Above him loomed the towering pillars of the outer gate. As it was still daylight, guards were standing there, stiff as statues, on the other side of the heavy grill.

"I want to see somebody," said Madison to the nearest guard.

The man just kept on standing there. Madison was not as much as a fly.

Madison got out his identoplate and showed it. The guard didn't even look at it.

An officer was coming up, electric saber clanking. "What's this unseemly disturbance out here?"

"It's no disturbance," said Madison. "I've got to see somebody in here."

"Well, that's informative," said the officer. "All it lacks is his name, your business and what plot you are involved in to subvert the machinery of state. Be off."

"Look," pleaded Madison, "this is a matter of life and death."

"There's plenty of both in here," said the officer. "They're doing life, most of them, and we have assorted brands of death. Now get out of here!"

"Please, please," said Madison. "It's my life I'm talking about."

"Talk away," said the officer. "In living memory, no one has had the nerve to walk up this road to this gate and ask to get in...."

The statue guard said, without moving his mouth, "Correction, sir. Gris did."

"Gris!" said Madison. "That's it. I am his dearest friend. I must see him!"

The officer bent his head way forward and looked at Madison through the bars. He suddenly walked off and Madison fidgeted nervously. He could see the officer talking into a courtyard call box.

The officer came back and gave a signal to open the gates wide enough for Madison to slip through. Then he gave another signal. The gates clanged shut and two guards ceased to be statues and abruptly took Madison by the arms, one on each side, and marched him forward saying, "Hup! Hup! Hup!" the same way Madison had heard his criminals chant. Was he under arrest?

They followed the officer into the main entrance and through the vast echoey halls. The officer opened a door and they were in a courtroom. They walked Madi­son straight across it and stopped him in front of a door.

The officer frisked him, appropriated his identoplate and went through the door. He came back and held it open.

The two guards catapulted Madison into a room. It was a stone-walled chamber but it had a rich rug on the floor. A huge block of stone, like a desk, had another rich hanging thrown over it. An old man, dressed in black, was in a chair behind the desk staring out the window.

The man swivelled the chair around. He picked up Madison's identoplate and looked at it. He fixed Madi­son with a wintry eye.

"So you're a friend of Soltan Gris. Well, well. I am Lord Turn. You can speak freely here."

Madison took it that they must be alone but he heard a clank behind him. The officer was standing against the far wall, keeping an eye on him.

"I just wanted to make sure he was all right," said Madison, lamely. "I want to see him."

"Do you have a Royal order?"

"No," said Madison.

"Then how could you possibly expect to be able to see a prisoner here?"

"I am very dose to Lombar Hisst, Spokesman to His Majesty."

"Hmm," said Lord Turn. "Tell me... Madison? Do you know anything of the crimes of Gris?"

"Well, sir, I did not come here to testify. He may– – "

"No, no. This is not a court you're standing in. You couldn't testify anyway unless a court was in session. Let me put this another way. Do you know Royal Officer Jettero Heller?"

"Well, yes, Your Honor– – "

"Your Lordship," corrected the officer fifty feet away.

"... Your Lordship," said Madison. "I do know Jettero Heller."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Well, no, Your Hon-Your Lordship."

"Blast!" said Lord Turn.

"I know there's a general warrant out for him," said Madison, "and I would be happy to– – "

"General warrant, piffle," said Lord Turn. "I am holding his prisoner here. And I am quite sure that Jettero has a very good reason to put this Soltan Gris in Royal custody. But I DO wish the lad had given me a note or something to say what Gris has DONE!"

The conversation had gone all sixes and sevens for Madison. He realized he could not now say that Gris was a criminal to end all criminals, as he had already said he was his friend, thinking they would let him have visitors. Maybe they could get him for contempt or lying to a judge. The cold chill of this stately place was gnawing into him.

"I'm looking everywhere for Heller myself!" he said in a desperate effort to appear helpful.

"And you haven't found him?"

"No, Your Lordship, but I have lines out."

Lord Turn looked at him and then barked a short, dry laugh. He punched a couple of buttons on his desk and a court clerk appeared first, being just next door.

Lord Turn said, "This is a man named Madison. I see what this is all about now. It's just another crude attempt by Lombar Hisst to bypass all normal procedures. For some reason, Hisst does not want to produce a Royal warrant or even a Royal pass. He's sent another man in here to see Gris." He turned to the guard officer. "Did you find any poison on this Madison here?"

"No, Your Lordship."

"Oh, heavens," said Madison, "I wasn't sent here by Hisst!"

"You just said you were," said Turn.

"I just wanted to make sure my friend Gris was all right!" wailed Madison.

A warder had come in in response to Turn's second buzz. He rattled his opening plates.

"Is the prisoner Gris all right?" said Lord Turn to him.

"Chipper as a songbird, Your Lordship. Just sitting there all day and half the night dictating his confession. He's on his third roll of vocoscriber paper. Singing like a songbird, too, Your Lordship."

"Well, maybe someday we'll know what this is all about," said Turn. "That's all, Warder. Now, Clerk, look at this identoplate. Stamp it on something. And leave an order at the gate that this Madison is to be let in if he ever finds where that dear boy Jettero has gotten to."

Mistaking this for kindness, Madison said, "Could I see Gris for just a moment?"

"And," said Lord Turn to his clerk, "issue another order for Gris not to be permitted to stand near windows. I think Hisst is trying to assassinate him." He turned to Madison. "Now, as for you, if I find out that you have found out where Jettero Heller is and have NOT told me, I will have you picked up on a judge's order and thrown into a detention cell until you tell me why you withheld the information." He turned to the guard officer. "Throw him out!"

Madison picked himself up off the pavement, wishing the guards had not taken the order so literally.