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observed the small drama that played itself out between the two Earthmen who
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had entered shortly after himself and the plump, elderly man who came in last
of all. But his observation was detached and casual, simply not. ing it as an
item to set against his unpleasant experience on the jet transport. The two
men at the table were obviously air-cab drivers and not wealthy, yet they
could be charitable.
The beggar left, and two minutes later Arvardan left as well.
The streets were noticeably fuller, as the workday was approaching its end.
He stepped hastily aside to avoid colliding with a young girl.
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Pardon me, he said.
She was dressed in white, in clothing which bore the stereotyped lines of a
uniform. She seemed quite oblivious of the near collision. The anxious look on
her face, the sharp turning of her head from side to side, her utter
preoccupation, made the situation quite obvious.
He laid a light finger on her shoulder. May I help you, miss? Are you in
trouble?
She stopped and turned startled eyes upon him. Arvardan found himself judging
her age at nineteen to twenty-one, observing carefully her brown hair and dark
eyes, her high cheekbones and little chin, her slim waist and graceful
carriage. He discovered, suddenly, that the thought of this little female
creature being an Earthwoman lent a sort of perverse piquancy to her
attractiveness.
But she was still staring, and almost at the moment of speaking she seemed to
break down. Oh, it s no use. Please don t bother about me. It s silly to
expect to find someone when you don t have the slightest idea where he could
have gone. She was drooping in discouragement, her eyes wet. Then she
straightened and breathed deeply. Have you seen a plump man about five-four,
dressed in green and white, no hat, rather bald?
Arvardan looked at her in astonishment. What? Green and white?...Oh, I don t
believe this....Look, this man you re referring to--does he speak with
difficulty?
Yes, yes. Oh yes. You have seen him, then?
Not five minutes ago he was in there eating with two men....Here they
are....Say, you two. He beckoned them over.
Granz reached them first. Cab, sir?
No, but if you tell the young lady what happened to the man you were eating
with, you ll stand to make the fare, anyway.
Granz paused and looked chagrined. Well, I d like to help you, but I never
saw him before in my life.
Arvardan turned to the girl. Now look, miss, he can t have gone in the
direction you came from or you d have seen him. And he can t be far away.
Suppose we move north a bit. I ll recognize him if I
see him.
His offer of help was an impulse, yet Arvardan was not, ordinarily, an
impulsive man. He found himself smiling at her.
Granz interrupted suddenly. What s he done, lady? He hasn t broken any of the
Customs, has he?
No, no, she replied hastily. He s only a little sick, that s all.
Messter looked after them as they left. A little sick? He shoved his
visored cap back upon his head, then pinched balefully at his chin. How d ya
like that, Granz? A little sick.
His eyes looked askance at the other for a moment.
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What s got into you?
asked Granz uneasily.
Something that s making me a little sick. That guy must ve been straight out
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of the hospital. That was a nurse looking for him, and a plenty worried nurse,
too. Why should she be worried if he was just a little sick? He couldn t
hardly talk, and he didn t hardly understand. You noticed that, didn t you?
There was a sudden panicky light in Granz s eyes. You don t think it s
Fever?
I sure do think it s Radiation Fever--and he s far gone. He was within a foot
of us, too. It s never any good--
There was a little thin man next to them. A little thin man with bright, sharp
eyes and a twittering voice, who had stepped out of nowhere. What s that,
gents? Who s got Radiation Fever?
He was regarded with disfavor. Who are you?
Ho, said the sharp little man, you want to know, do you? It so happens that
I m a messenger of the Brotherhood, to be sure. He flashed a little glowing
badge on the inner lapel of his jacket. Now, in the name of the Society of
Ancients, what s all this about Radiation Fever?
Messter spoke in cowed and sullen tones. don t know nothing. There s a nurse
looking for
I
somebody who s sick, and I was wondering if it was Radiation Fever. That s not
against the Customs, is it?
Ho! You re telling me about the Customs, are you? You better go about your
business and let me worry about the Customs.
The little man rubbed his hands together, gazed quickly about him, and hurried
northward.
There he is!
and Pola clutched feverishly at her companion s elbow. It had happened
quickly, easily, and accidentally. Through the despairing blankness he had
suddenly materialized just within the main entrance of the self-service
department store, not three blocks from the Foodomat.
I see him, whispered Arvardan. Now stay back and let me follow him. If he
sees you and dashes into the mob, we ll never locate him.
Casually they followed in a sort of nightmare chase. The human contents of the
store was a quicksand which could absorb its prey slowly--or quickly--keep it
hidden impenetrably, spew it forth unexpectedly; set up barriers that somehow
would not yield. The mob might almost have had a malevolent conscious mind of
its own.
And then Arvardan circled a counter watchfully, playing Schwartz as though he
were at the end of a fishing line. His huge hand reached out and closed on the
other s shoulder.
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