"Why do you think so?"

"Dear boy! Everyone at that meeting is in grave danger. Yourself, too. I was so happy--even though confused--to hear you say that you are not at home. You should not go home at present. If you have some safe place to stay, it would be well to take a vacation. You are aware--you must be even though you left hastily--that there was violence last night."

I was aware! Killing Warden's bodyguards must be against Authority Regulations--at least if I were Warden, I'd take a dim view. "Thanks, Prof; I'll be careful. And if I see this girl, I'll tell her."

"You don't know where to find her? You were seen to leave with her and I had so hoped that you would know."

"Prof, why this interest? Last night you didn't seem to be on her side."

"No, no, Manuel! She is my comrade. I don't say 'tovarishch' for I mean it not just as politeness but in the older sense. Binding. She is my comrade. We differ only in tactics. Not in objectives, not in loyalties."

"I see. Well, consider message delivered. She'll get it."

"Oh, wonderful! I ask no questions....ut I do hope, oh so very strongly, that you can find a way for her to be safe, really safe, until this blows over."

I thought that over. "Wait a moment, Prof. Don't switch off." As I answered phone, Wyoh had headed for bath, probably to avoid listening; she was that sort.

Tapped on door. "Wyoh?"

"Out in a second."

"Need advice."

She opened door. "Yes, Mannie?"

"How does Professor de la Paz rate in your organization? Is he trusted? Do you trust him?"

She looked thoughtful. "Everyone at the meeting was supposed to be vouched for. But I don't know him."

"Mmm. You have feeling about him?"

"I liked him, even though he argued against me. Do you know anything about him?"

"Oh, yes, known him twenty years. I trust him. But can't extend trust for you. Trouble--and it's your air bottle, not mine."

She smiled warmly. "Mannie, since you trust him, I trust him just as firmly."

I went back to phone. "Prof, are you on dodge?"

He chuckled. "Precisely, Manuel."

"Know a hole called Grand Hotel Raffles? Room L two decks below lobby. Can you get here without tracks, have you had breakfast, what do you like for breakfast?"

He chuckled again. "Manuel, one pupil can make a teacher feel that his years were not wasted. I know where it is, I shall get there quietly, I have not broken fast, and I eat anything I can't pat."

Wyoh had started putting beds together; I went to help. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Chai and toast. Juice would be nice."

"Not enough."

"Well... a boiled egg. But I pay for breakfast."

"Two boiled eggs, buttered toast with jam, juice. I'll roll you."

"Your dice, or mine?"

"Mine. I cheat." I went to lift, asked for display, saw something called THE HAPPY HANGOVER--ALL PORTIONS EXTRA LARGE--tomato juice, scrambled eggs, ham steak, fried potatoes, corn cakes and honey, toast, butter, milk, tea or coffee--HKL $4.50 for two--I ordered it for two, no wish to advertise third person.

We were clean and shining, room orderly and set for breakfast, and Wyoh had changed from black outfit into red dress "because company was coming" when lift jingled food. Change into dress had caused words. She had posed, smiled, and said, "Mannie, I'm so pleased with this dress. How did you know it would suit me so well?"

"Genius."

"I think you may be. What did it cost? I must pay you."

"On sale, marked down to Authority cents fifty."

She clouded up and stomped foot. Was bare, made no sound, caused her to bounce a half meter. "Happy landing!" I wished her, while she pawed for foothold like a new chum.

"Manuel O'Kelly! If you think I will accept expensive clothing from a man I'm not even bundling with!"

"Easily corrected."

"Lecher! I'll tell your wives!"

"Do that. Mum always thinks worst of me." I went to lift, started dealing out dishes; door sounded. I flipped hearum-no-seeum. "Who comes?"

"Message for Gospodin Smith," a cracked voice answered. "Gospodin Bernard O. Smith."

I flipped bolts and let Professor Bernardo de la Paz in. He looked like poor grade of salvage--dirty clothes, filthy himself, hair unkempt, paralyzed down one side and hand twisted, one eye a film of cataract--perfect picture of old wrecks who sleep in Bottom Alley and cadge drinks and pickled eggs in cheap taprooms. He drooled.

As soon as I bolted door he straightened up, let features come back to normal, folded hands over wishbone, looked Wyoh up and down, sucked air kimono style, and whistled. "Even more lovely," he said, "than I remembered!"

She smiled, over her mad. "'Thanks, Professor. But don't bother. Nobody here but comrades."

"Señorita, the day I let politics interfere with my appreciation of beauty, that day I retire from politics. But you are gracious." He looked away, glanced closely around room.

I said, "Prof, quit checking for evidence, you dirty old man. Last night was politics, nothing but politics."

"That's not true!" Wyoh flared up. "I struggled for hours! But he was too strong for me. Professor--what's the party discipline in such cases? Here in Luna City?"

Prof tut-tutted and rolled blank eye. "Manuel, I'm surprised. It's a serious matter, my dear--elimination, usually. But it must be investigated. Did you come here willingly?"

"He drugged me."

"'Dragged,' dear lady. Let's not corrupt the language. Do you have bruises to show?"

I said, "Eggs getting cold. Can't we eliminate me after breakfast?"

"An excellent thought," agreed Prof. "Manuel, could you spare your old teacher a liter of water to make himself more presentable?"

"All you want, in there. Don't drag or you'll get what littlest pig got."

"Thank you, sir."

He retired; were sounds of brushing and washing. Wyoh and I finished arranging table. "'Bruises,'" I said. "Struggled all night.'"

"You deserved it, you insulted me."

"How?"

"You failed to insult me, that's how. After you drugged me here."

"Mmm. Have to get Mike to analyze that."

"Michelle would understand it. Mannie, may I change my mind and have a little piece of that ham?"

"Half is yours, Prof is semi-vegetarian." Prof came out and, while did not look his most debonair, was neat and clean, hair combed, dimples back and happy sparkle in eye--fake cataract gone. "Prof, how do you do it?"

"Long practice, Manuel; I've been in this business far longer than you young people. Just once, many years ago in Lima--a lovely city--I ventured to stroll on a fine day without such forethought... and it got me transported. What a beautiful table!"

"Sit by me, Prof," Wyoh invited. "I don't want to sit by him. Rapist."

"Look," I said, "first we eat, then we eliminate me. Prof, fill plate and tell what happened last night."

"May I suggest a change in program? Manuel, the life of a conspirator is not an easy one and I learned before you were born not to mix provender and politics. Disturbs the gastric enzymes and leads to ulcers, the occupational disease of the underground. Mmm! That fish smells good."

"Fish?"

"That pink salmon," Prof answered, pointing at ham.

A long, pleasant time later we reached coffee/tea stage. Prof leaned back, sighed and said, "Bolshoyeh spasebaw, Gospazha ee Gospodin. Tak for mat, it was wonderfully good. I don't know when I've felt more at peace with the world. Ah yes! Last evening--I saw not too much of the proceedings because, just as you two were achieving an admirable retreat, I lived to fight another day--I bugged out. Made it to the wings in one long flat dive. When I did venture to peek out, the party was over, most had left, and all yellow jackets were dead."

(Note: Must correct this; I learned more later. When trouble started, as I was trying to get Wyoh through door, Prof produced a hand gun and, firing over heads, picked off three bodyguards at rear main door, including one wearing bull voice. How he smuggled weapon up to The Rock--or managed to liberate it later--I don't know. But Prof's shooting joined with Shorty's work to turn tables; not one yellow jacket got out alive. Several people were burned and four were killed--but knives, hands, and heels finished it in seconds.)