My name it is Robin Hood.

chores, but she had finished half the catch before she realized it, washing them clean in the little brook. Lars was back as she slit the last one. In one crooked arm, he held twisted polly fronds that provided a quick hot fire, and another basket swung from his right hand. He found rocks by the stream to enclose their fire, hauled a frying sheet from the basket, and set out oil, seasonings bread, fruit, and another pot of the soft island cheese. The quick tropical night had settled upon the island, enclosing them more securely in their clearing as they finished their supper, licking the last of the juices from their fingers. Going to be nice to me? Lars asked, leering dramatically at her. Maybe Ill just stay in the islands. Killashandra surprised herself with the longing in her voice. Theres all I could possibly need just for the taking Even me? Killashandra looked up at him. Despite his light words, his voice held a curious entreaty. I would be a right foolish dolt to consider you part of the taking. She meant it, for quixotic though the man might appear, she sensed that Lars had an unshakeable integrity which she, or any other woman, would have to recognize and accept. We could stay in the islands, Carrigana, and make a go of the charter service. Lars, too, was caught in the same thrall which infected her resolve. Sailings never dull. The weather sees to that. It could be a good life, and I promise you wouldnt have to hack polly! His fingers caressed her hands. Lars She had to set the record fair. He covered her lips with his hand. No, beloved, this is not the time for life-shaping decisions. This is the time for loving. Love me again! Chapter 12 The idyll lasted another full day and into the early morning of the third, during which time Killashandra would have been quite willing to forego all the prestige of being a crystal singer to remain Larss companion. A totally impossible, improbable, and impractical ambition. But she had every intention of enjoying his companionship as long as it was physically possible. She was haunted by memories of Carrik and, as such traumas can, they colored, and augmented, her responses to Lars. It was the change in the weather which necessitated their return to society. The drop in barometric digital slr camera gallery pressure woke Killashandra just before dawn. She lay, wide awake, Larss lax arms draped about her, his legs overlapping hers, wondering what had returned her so abruptly to full consciousness. Then she smelled a change in weather on the early morning breeze. It had not occurred to Killashandra that her Ballybran symbiont would be agitated by other weather systems. And she pushed her sensitivity as far as she could, testing what the change might herald. Storm, she decided, letting symbiotic instinct make the identification. And a heavy one. In these islands a hurricane more likely than not. A worrisome phenomenon for a reasonably flat land mass. No, there were heights on what Lars had termed the Head. She smiled, for yesterday, in between other felicitous activities, he had given her quite a history and geography lesson pertinent to the island economy. This island gets its name from the shape of the land mass, he explained and drew a shape on the wet sands with a shell. They had just emerged from a morning swim. It was seen first from the exploratory probe and named long before any settlers landed here. Theres even a sort of a halo of islets off the Head. Were at the Wingtip. The settlement lies in the wing curve see and the western heights are the wings, complete with the ridge principle. This side of the island is much lower than the body side. Weve two separate viable harbors, north and south, the angels outstretched hands completing the smaller, deeper one. My fathers offices are there, as the backbone sometimes interferes with reception from the mainland. You cant see it from here because of Backbone Ridge, but theres rather an impressive old volcano topping the Head. He grinned mischievously, giving Killashandra an impression of the devilish child he must have been. Some of us less reverent souls say the Angel blew her head when she knew who got possession of the planet. Not so, of course. It happened eons before we got here. Angel was not the largest of the islands but Lars told her that shed soon see that it was the best. The southern sea was littered Lars said, with all kinds of land masses: some completely sterile, others bearing active volcanoes, and anything large enough to support polly plantations and other useful tropical vegetation did so. We were a race apart from the mainlanders, and weve remained so, Carrigana. They listen to what the Elders dish up for them, dulling their

ROBIN HOOD RESCUING THREE SQUIRES

In fact, reparations may well be required. Now, what have you to say to me? Honored Guildmember, I cannot adequately express our horror, our concern for you during your terrible ordeal. Those in the Harbor Masters office saw the effort which Elder Torkes was forced to make to moderate his own manner. I dont know how the Council can ever redeem itself in your eyes. Anything we can do I suggest that you begin by expressing gratitude to the young man who rescued me after that frightening hurricane Why, I thought Id be swept to sea and drowned during the night. This is the young man, and ruthlessly Killashandra pulled Lars beside her. Torkess face was unreadable as he inclined his head in the curtest possible recognition. Hes the skipper of the what did you say your boats called, Captain Dahl? The Pearl Fisher, Guildmember. I might add that he took considerable risk to himself and his vessel to put in to that island. The monsters in the lagoon and all about it were in some sort of frenzy. The storm does that, he told me. But I was so relieved to see another human after all that time Look at me! Im a sight! My hair, my skin! Im nothing but skin and bones! Our estimated time of arrival is 18:30, Guildmember. Until that time, the Harbor Master will be able to attend to your comfort to the limits of his facilities. Torkes regained some of his usual repressive manner as he eyed Olav Dahl significantly. Begging your indulgence, Elder Torkes, but the Guildmember insisted that you be contacted before any personal comfort was seen to. We are hers to command until your arrival. The picture was cut off at the cruiser screen. No sooner was it blank than Lars seized Killashandra in his arms, whirling her about the communications room, roaring his approval. His face! Did you see how he had to struggle to control himself, Killa? Youll break my ribs, Lars Leave off! But you can see how easy it is When you have one of the most prestigious Guilds in the FSP to back you, Olav said, but he was grinning as broadly with satisfaction at the confrontation as Lars was. Well, you have the FSP Council Only if they are in the position to acknowledge me, Olav reminded her, raising a hand in contradiction. Which they are not, as my mission here was covert. The Council does not interfere with planetary politics when no other planet or system is affected. business week digital cameras Optheria could not be approached on an official basis, you know. The FSP had ratified their Charter. With you to explain all about the lack of popular acceptance of the restriction, surely My dear Killashandra Ree, the situation on Optheria cannot be altered by one mans testimony, especially a man who could by planetary laws to which he is now subject under intergalactic regulations, be tried and convicted of treasonous acts. Oh! Killashandras elation drained away quickly. Dont concern yourself with this problem now, my friend for I count you one, Olav said, gripping her on the shoulder. I am grateful for what you have already achieved. He took Larss shoulder in his other hand, smiling with great affection at his son. Ever since we saw the cruiser jet on the screen, Id been wracking my brains on how to protect Lars from interrogation by Torkes. You have scuttled that plan, but do not deceive yourself that all will be fair sailing. It was a superb performance, Killa! When I tell the others Softly, Lars, softly. Olav said, Torkes has had enough to swallow. Give him no more on your peril. Now, Killashandra, we must do the courteous for you, and lavish you with suitable gifts and personal services Teradia, of course, Father. And Ill advise her about our visitors and their preferences. Lars grimaced with distaste. Yes, Ill warn her youre coming up and then Ill organize appropriate festivities. Why waste a barbecue on Torkes? He doesnt eat! Killashandra said in disgust. But you do, Killashandra, and its your return to civilization that were celebrating! Lars squeezed her about the waist. One point, Lars, and Olav laid a restraining, hand on his sons arm as he reached and removed the garland from his neck. I am sorry, but these would bring unwelcome questions. He reached for Killashandras and she hesitated before giving it to him. Not half as sorry as I am. She walked out of the building, Lars following quietly behind her. Chapter 16 Teradias house was situated on one of the upper levels facing North Harbor, and as they hurried up the steep, zigzag stairs that linked the terraces, Killashandra saw that much of the debris occasioned by the hurricane had already been removed. Groups of young people were unhurriedly

As many there did know;

and the entry on Ballybran. A much expurgated entry scrolled past, ending with the Code Four restriction. She queried the Files for political science texts and discovered fascinating gaps in that category. So, censorship was applied on Optheria. Not that that ever accomplished its purpose. However, an active censorship was not grounds for charter-smashing, and the Guild had only been requested to discover if the planetary exit restriction was popularly accepted. Well, she knew one person she could ask the tenor if he hadnt gone into hiding after last nights hunt. Killashandra grinned. If she knew tenors She had breakfasted the catering unit did offer a substantial breakfast and dressed by the time Thyrol arrived to inquire if she had rested, and more importantly, if she would like to start the repairs. He tactfully indicated her arm. Youve apprehended the assailant? Merely a matter of time. How many students in the Complex? she asked amiably as Thyrol led her down the hall to the lift. At present, four hundred and thirty. Thats a lot of suspects to examine. No student would dare attack an honored guest of the planet. On most planets, theyd be the prime suspects. My dear Guildmember, the selection process by which this student body is chosen considers all aspects of the applicants background, training, and ability. They uphold all our traditions. Killashandra mumbled something suitable. How many positions are available to graduates? That is not an issue, Guildmember, Thyrol said with mild condescension. There is no limit to the number of fully trained performers who present compositions for the Optherian organ But only one may play at a time There are forty-five organs throughout Optheria That many? Then why couldnt one of those be substituted The instrument here at the Complex is the largest, most advanced and absolutely essential for the performance level required by the Summer Festival. Composers from all over the planet compete for the honor and their work has been especially written for the potential of the hp camera digital transfer main instrument. To ask them to perform on a lesser organ defeats the purpose of the Festival. I see, Killashandra said although she didnt. However, once she had been admitted through the series of barriers and security positions protecting the damaged organ, she began to appreciate the distinction Thyrol had made. He had taken her to the rocky basements of the Complex, and then to the impressive and unexpectedly grand Competition Amphitheater which utilized the natural stony bowl on the nether side of the Complex promontory. Some massive early earthfault and a lot of weathering had molded the mounts flank into a perfect semicircle. The Optherians had improved the amphitheater with tiered ranks of individual seating units, facing the shelf on which the organ console stood. This was accessible only from the one entrance through which Thyrol now guided Killashandra. With a sincere and suitable awe, Killashandra looked about her, annoyed that she was gratifying Thyrols desire to impress a Guildmember even as she was unable to suppress that wonder. She cleared her throat, and the sound, small though it was, echoed faithfully back at her. The acoustics are incredible, she murmured and, as Thyrol smiled tolerantly, heard her words whispered back. She rolled her eyes and looked about her for an exit from the phenomenal stage. Thyrol gestured to a portal carved in the solid rock on the far side of the organ console. From his belt pouch he extracted three small rods. With these and his thumb print, he opened the door, the sound reverberating across the empty space. Killashandra slipped in first. As familiar as she was with auditoria of all descriptions, something about this one unnerved her. Something about the seats reminded her of primitive diagnostic chairs which used physical restraints on their occupants, yet she knew that people would cross the Galaxy to attend the Festival. Lights had come up at their entry and illuminated a large, low-ceilinged chamber. Taking up the floor space in front of the innocuous interlinked cabinets that made up the electronic guts of the Optherian organ were the prominent sealed crates containing the white crystal. Overhead harnesses of color-coded cables formed a ceiling design before they disappeared through conduits to unknown destinations. Thyrol led the way to the large rectangle containing the shattered remains of the crystal manual. How, in

And naebody kens that he lies there

pursuit with a vengeance. Mallory began to fear that the Germans had taken him, but just as they reached the water's edge he heard the gun-fire again, a good deal farther away this time, in the very north-east corner of the town, round the back of the fortress. Mallory stood on the low wail above the harbour, looked at his companions, gazed out over the dark oiliness of the water. Through the heavy rain he could just distinguish, to his right and left, the vague blurs of caiques moored stern on to the wall. Beyond that he could see nothing. "Well, I don't suppose we can get much wetter than we are right now," he observed. He turned to Louki, checked something the little man was trying to say about Andrea. "You sure you can find it all right in the darkness?" "It" was the commandant's personal launch, a thirty-six-foot ten-tonner always kept moored to a buoy a hundred feet offshore. The engineer, who doubled as guard, slept aboard, Louki had said. "I am already there," Louki boasted. "Blindfold me as you will and I" "All right, all right," Mallory said hastily. "I'll take your word for it. Lend me your hat, will you, Casey?" He jammed the automatic into the crown of the hat, pulled it firmly on to his head, slid gently into the water and struck out by Louki's side. "The engineer," Louki said softly. "I think he will be awake, Major." "I think so, too," Mallory said grimly. Again there came the chatter of machine-carbines, the deeper whiplash of a Mauser. "So will everyone else in Navarone, unless they're deaf or dead. Drop behind as soon as we see the boat. Come when I call." Ten seconds, fifteen passed, then Louki touched Mallory on the arm. "I see it," Mallory whispered. The blurred silhouette was less than fifteen yards away. He approached silently, neither legs nor arms breaking water, until he saw the vague shape of a man standing on the poop, just aft of the engine-room hatchway. He was immobile, staring out in the direction of the fortress and the upper town: Mallory slowly circled round the stern of the boat and came up behind him, on the other side. Carefully he removed his hat, took out the gun, caught the low gunwale with his left hand. At the range of seven feet he knew he couldn't possibly miss, but he couldn't shoot the man, not then. The guard-rails were token affairs only, eighteen inches high at the most, and the splash of the man falling into the water would almost certainly alert the guards samsung bl103 digital camera at the harbour mouth emplacements. "If you move I will kill you!" Mallory said softly in German. The man stiffened. He had a carbine in his hand, Mallory saw. "Put the gun down. Don't turn round." Again the man obeyed, and Mallory was out of the water and on to the deck, in seconds, neither eye nor automatic straying from the man's back. He stepped softly forward, reversed the automatic, struck, caught the man before he could fall overboard and lowered him quietly to the deck. Three minutes later all the others were safely aboard. Mallory followed the limping Brown down to the engine-room, watched him as he switched on his hooded torch, looked around with a professional eye, looked at the big, gleaming, six-cylinder in line Diesel engine. "This," said Brown reverently, "is an engine. What a beauty! Operates on any number of cylinders you like. I know the type, sir." "I never doubted but you would. Can you start her up, Casey?" "Just a minute till I have a look round, sir." Brown had all the unhurried patience of the born engineer. Slowly, methodically, he played the spotlight round the immaculate interior of the engine-room, switched on the fuel and turned to Mallory. "A dual control job, sir. We can take her from up top." He carried out the same painstaking inspection in the wheel-house, while Mallory waited impatiently. The rain was easing off now, not much, but sufficiently to let him see the vague outlines of the harbour entrance. He wondered for the tenth time if the guards there had been alerted against the possibility of an attempted escape by boat. It seemed unlikelyfrom the racket Andrea was making, the Germans would think that escape was the last thing in their minds. ... He leaned forward, touched Brown on the shoulder. "Twenty past eleven, Casey," he murmured. "If these destroyers come through early we're apt to have a thousand tons of rock falling on our heads." "Ready now, sir," Brown announced. He gestured at the crowded dashboard beneath the screen. "Nothing to it really." "I'm glad you think so," Mallory murmured fervently. "Start her moving, will you? Just keep it slow and easy." Brown coughed apologetically. "We're still moored to the buoy. And it might be a good thing, sir, if we checked on the fixed guns, searchlights, signalling lamps, life-jackets and buoys. It's useful to know where these things are," he finished deprecatorily. Mallory laughed

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

the appalling truth struck meI was alone. I was alone, I realised in a belated and chilling flash of understanding, because shooting me would have been a stupid way of disposing of both myself and my dangerous knowledgethe discovery of a bullet-riddled body on the ice-cap during the brief hours of daylight would have provoked a hundred questions and suspicions. Much more desirable, from the killer's point of view, would be my dead body without a trace of violence. Even the most experienced man can get lost in a snow-storm on the ice-cap. And I was lost. I knew I was lost, I was convinced of it even before I got the wind on my left and walked back to the line of bamboo poles. The bamboos were no longer there. I made a wide circle, but still found nothing. For at least twenty yards back in the direction of the plane, and probably all the way towards the cabin, the poles had been removed, that slender series of markers which alone meant all the difference between safety and being irrecoverably lost on the ice-cap, were no longer there. I was lost, really and truly lost. For once, that night, I didn't panic. It wasn't just that I knew that panic would be the end of me. I was consumed by a cold fury that I should have been so ignominiously tricked, so callously left to die. But I wasn't going to die. I couldn't even begin to guess what the tremendously high stakes must be in the murderous game that this incredibly ruthless, wickedly-deceptive gentle-faced stewardess was playing, but I swore to myself that I wasn't going to be one of the pawns that were going to be brushed off the table. I stood still, and took stock. The snow was increasing now, thickening by the minute, building up into a blizzard with visibility cut down to a few feet: the yearly precipitation of the ice-cap was no more than seven or eight inches, and it was just my evil luck that it should fall so heavily that night. The wind was southerly, or had been, but in that fickle Greenland climate there was no knowing what minute it might back or veer. My torch was failing: continual use plus the cold had left it with a pale yellowish beam that reached not much more than a few yards: but that was the limit of visibility, anyway, even downwind. The plane, I calculated, was not much more than a hundred yards away, the cabin six hundred. My chances of stumbling upon the latter, flush as it almost was with the surface of the ice-cap, were no better than one in a hundred. But my chances of finding the plane, or what came to the same thing, the digital camera spots on picture great quarter-mile trench that it had gouged out in the frozen snow when it had crash-landed, were far better than even: it was impossible that it could have already been filled in with drift. I turned until I had the wind over my left shoulder and started walking. I reached the deep furrow in the snow inside a minuteI'd switched off my torch to conserve the battery but my stumble and heavy fall as I went over the edge was intimation enoughturned right and reached the plane in thirty seconds. I suppose I might possibly have lasted out the night inside the wrecked fuselage, but such was my singleness of purpose at the moment that the thought never occurred to me. I walked round the wing, picked up the first of the bamboos in the dim beam of my torch and started to follow them. There were only five altogether. After that, nothing. Every one of the others had been removed. These five, I knew, pointed straight towards the cabin and all I had to do was to keep shifting the last of the five to the front, lining it up straight with the others in the light of my torch, and it would be bound to bring out to the cabin. Or so I thought, for perhaps ten seconds. But it was a task that really required two people to achieve anything like accuracy: what with that, the feebleness of my rapidly dying torch and the hopeless visibility, I couldn't be accurate within two or three degrees at the least. That seemed a trifle, but when I stopped and worked it out I discovered that, over the distance, even one degree out would have put me almost forty feet off course. On a night like that, I could pass by the cabin ten feet away and never see it. There were less laborious means of committing suicide. I picked up the five sticks, returned to the plane and walked along the furrowed trench till I came to the depression where the plane had touched down. The 250-foot line of the antenna, I knew, was roughly four hundred yards away, just a little bit south of westslightly to my left, that was, as I stood with my back to the plane. I didn't hesitate. I strode out into the darkness, counting my steps, concentrating on keeping the wind a little more than on my left cheek but not quite full face. After four hundred long paces I stopped and pulled out my torch. It was quite deadthe dull red glow from the filament didn't even register on my glove six inches away, and the darkness was as absolute as it would ever become on the ice-cap. I was a

Altho he was proper and tall,

left and they would be unharmed by a long immersion. Following the directions in her useful little pamphlet, she had made several sturdy lengths of rope from the coarse fiber of the polly tree, with which she could secure the hatchet to her body. Her original clothing was down to shreds which she sewed with lengths of the tough stem into a halter and a loin cloth. By then she had become as tan as her abductor and was forced to use some of the oilier fishes to grease her hide for protection. She would coat herself thoroughly before each leg of her swim to freedom. Having made her decision, Killashandra implemented it the next day at noon, swimming to her first destination in less than an hours time. She rested while she made up her mind which island of the seven visible would be next. She found herself constantly returning to the one farthest north. Well, once there, none were far away if she decided shed overshot the right line to take. She made that island by mid-afternoon, dragging herself up onto the narrow shore, exhausted. Then she discovered some of the weak points in her plans: there werent many ripe polly fruits on the island; and fish wouldnt bite on her hook that evening. Because she found too few fruits, she was exceedingly thirsty by morning and chose her next point of call by the polly population. The channel between was dark blue, deep water, and twice she was startled by dimly seen large shapes moving beneath her. Both times she floated face down, arms and legs motionless, until the danger summoned by her flailing limbs had passed. She rested on this fourth island all the rest of that day and the next one, replenishing her dehydrated tissues and trying to catch an oily fish. To her dismay, she could only attract the yellowbacks. Eventually she had enough of them to provide some oil for her raddled skin. On her voyage to the fifth island, a fair sized one, she had her worst fright. Despite the suns being at high noon, she found herself in the midst of a school of tiny fish that was being harvested by several mammoth denizens. At one point she was briefly stranded on a creatures flank when it unexpectedly surfaced under her. She didnt know whether to swim furiously for the distant shore or lie motionless, but before she could make a decision the immense body swirled its torpedo tail in the air and sounded. Killashandra was pulled under by the fierce turbulence of its passage, and she swallowed a good deal more water than she liked before she returned to the surface. As soon as she clambered up on the fifth island, she ge a735 digital camera headed for the nearest ripe polly fruit only to discover that she had lost her hatchet, the last packets of emergency rations, and the fish hooks. She slaked her thirst on overripe polly fruit, ignoring the rank taste for the sake of the moisture. That need attended to, she gathered up enough dry fronds to cushion her body, and went to sleep. She woke sometime in the night, thirsting for more of the overripe fruit which she hunted in the dark, cursing as she tripped over debris and fell into bushes, staggering about in her search until she had to admit to herself that her behavior was somewhat bizarre. About the same time she realized that she was drunk! The innocent polly fruit had been fermenting! Given her Ballybran adaptation, the state could only have been allowed by her weakened constitution. Giggling, she lay down on the ground, impervious to sand or discomfort and fell into a second drunken sleep. Much the worse for her various excesses, Killashandra awoke with a ghastly headache and a terrible need for water. Number five was a much larger island than her other way stops and she was searching so diligently to relieve her thirst that she almost passed the little canoe without its registering on her consciousness. It was only a small canoe, pulled up beyond the high tide mark, a paddle angling from the narrow prow. At another time and without her urgent need, Killashandra would not have ventured out on the open sea in such a flimsy craft. But someone had already brought it from wherever they came so it could as easily convey her elsewhere, too. Her need for water diminished by this happy discovery, Killashandra climbed the nearest polly tree and, hanging precariously to the ridged trunk, managed to saw through several stems with her short knife blade. She didnt waste time then, but threw the fruit into the small craft, slid it into the gentle waves, and paddled down the coast as fast as she could, just in case the owner should return and demand the return of his canoe. While she no longer needed to wait until noon to cross to the next island in her northern course, Killashandras previous days fright made her cautious. She keenly felt the loss of her hatchet. But good fortune continued to surprise her for, as she paddled around a narrow headland, she spotted the unmistakable sign of a small stream draining into the sea. She could even paddle a short way up its mouth and did so, pausing to scoop up a handful of sweet

Came wiffling through the tulgey wood,

curtly. "It's locked." "Unlock it." He looked at me without expression, then searched through his pockets. At last he stopped and said, "I can't find the keys." "I'd expected nothing else. Jackstraw" I changed my mind, one gun was not enough to cover a killer like Zagero. I glanced round the company, made my choice. "Mr Small wood, perhaps you" "No, thank you," Mr Smallwood said hastily. He was still holding a handkerchief to his puffed mouth. He smiled wryly. "I've never realised so clearly before now how essentially a man of peace I am, Dr Mason. Perhaps Mr Corazzini" I glanced at Corazzini, and he shrugged indifferently. I understood his lack of eagerness. He must have known that I'd had him high up among my list of suspects until very recently indeed and a certain delicacy of sentiment might well prevent him from being too forthcoming too soon. But this was no time for delicacy. I nodded, and he made for Zagero. He missed nothing, but he found nothing. After two minutes he stepped back, looked at me and then, thoughtfully, at Solly Levin. Again I nodded, and again he began to search. In ten seconds he brought out a bunch of keys, and held them up. "It's a frame-up," Levin yelped. "It's a plant! Corazzini tnusta palmed 'em and put 'em there. I never had no keys" "Shut up!" I ordered contemptuously. "Yours, Zagero?" He nodded tightly, said nothing. "OK, Corazzini," I said. "Let's see what we can find." The second key opened the soft leather case. Corazzini dug under the clothes on top and brought out the three corned beef tins. "Thank you," I said. "Our friend's iron rations for his take-off. Miss Ross, our lunch. . . . Tell me, Zagero, can you think of any reason why I shouldn't kill you now?" "You've made nothin' but mistakes ever since I met you," Zagero said slowly, "but, brother, this is the biggest you ever made. Do you think I would be such a damn fool as to incriminate myself that way? Do you think I would be so everlastingly obvious" "I think that's exactly the way you expected me to think," I said wearily. "But I'm learning, I'm learning. One more job, Corazzini, if you would. Tie their feet." "What are you going to do?" Zagero asked tightly. "Don't digital cameras online 2 worry. The executioner will collect his fee. From now on you and Levin ride, with your feet tied, in the front of the tractor sledand with a gun on you all the time. . . . What is it, Miss LeGarde?" "Are you sure, Peter?" It was the first time she had spoken for hours, and I could see that even that tiny effort tired her. "He doesn't look like a murderer." The tone of her voice accurately reflected the expressions of consternation and shocked disbelief on half a dozen faces: Zagero had spared no effort to make himself popular with everyone. "Does anybody here?" I demanded. "The best murderers never do." I then explained to herand the othersall I knew and had suspected about everything. It shook them, especially the facts of the spiking of the petrol and of Hillcrest having been, at one time, only a few hours behind us: and by the time I was finished I could see that there was as little doubt in their minds about Zagero's guilt as there was in mine. Two hours later, well down the slope from the Vindeby Nunataks, I stopped and set up the radio gear. I reckoned that we were now less than a hundred miles from the coast, and for half an hour tried to raise our base at Uplavnik. We had no success, but I had hardly expected any: the radio shack at the base was manned only by one operator, he couldn't be expected to be on watch all the time, and obviously his call-up bell wasn't set for the frequency I was using. At four o'clock exactly I got through to Hillcrest. This time I hadn't bothered to move the radio out of hearing range -1 was actually leaning against the tractor cabin as I spokeand every word said, both by Hillcrest and myself, could be clearly heard. But it didn't matter any more. The first thing I did, of course, was to tell him that we had got our men. Even as I spoke, my own voice sounded curiously flat and lifeless. I should, I suppose, have been exultant and happy, but the truth was that I had suffered too much, both physically and psychologically, in the past few days, exhaustion lay over me like a smothering blanket, the reaction from the strain of those days was beginning to set in, the awareness was clearly with me that we weren't out of the wood by a long way yet, the lives of Marie LeGarde and Mahler were now the uppermost thoughts in my mind, and, to be perfectly honest, I also felt curiously deflated because I had developed a considerable liking for Zagero and the revelation of his true character

He left it dead, and with its head

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they He went galumphing back. imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at