sup. Talk will come
later."

A servant had placed a dish before Jenkins from which the most
appetizing odors arose. Saliva formed in his mouth, and his empty belly
reminded him he hadn't eaten for a long time. He raised his fork and
started to dig in, but the gesture was never completed. For suddenly he
became aware that every eye was on him and that every mouth was twisted
in a grin, that laughter hung silently on the air ready to explode at
the right second. They were but waiting for him to taste the food.

Nerveless fingers dropped the fork, and Jenkins' gulp was audible. He
knew why the grins and stares. _The food was poisoned!_ Yet the others
were eating, loudly, gaspingly, tearing at the food with fingers and
jaws, eating as though it was the last meal they were ever to have.

"Come, man! Eat!" the woman said between mouthfuls. She, like the rest,
held little regard for manners.

"I--I'm not hungry," Jenkins said lamely.

"Too bad. It's so good!" Lucretia remarked. Her eyes were daring him.

There seemed to be dozens of courses, and Jenkins' hunger grew with each
serving. More than hunger seethed in his breast, however. Anger also
gnawed at him. Anger got the better at last. He shoved his chair from
the table, and it clattered backward on stumbling legs. All eyes turned
to him as he stood, his hands on his hips, his head shoved forward, chin
jutting out like a rock.

"I've had just about enough of this!" Jenkins announced loudly. "I'm
going. And you, Griffin, are coming with me."

Gone now were the smiles; gone the laughter. The eyes were cold and
oddly expectant. Jenkins grew aware of the tense silence. He grinned,
and began to withdraw slowly.

"Okay," he said softly, "so I'll go alone."

"Not even that way," Lucretia said. "My guests leave only at _my_
bidding."

* * * * *

As though her words were a command, two of the men at opposite ends of
the table rose and started for Jenkins. Their hands were wrapped about
the hilts of the short swords stuck in their belts. Jenkins continued to
retreat slowly, though, until his foot struck against the chair which
he'd shoved back. Then he moved like greased lightning.

His right hand swept around, gathered up the chair and flung it skidding
across the floor, so that it wound up among the folds of the robe worn
by one of the men. At the same time Jenkins leaped toward his other
would-be attacker and chopped a right hook to h