I tried to yell to
her; but just then another lighter, loaded with freight, started to lift
out at another nearby stand, with the roar of half a dozen Niagaras. The
thin man in the striped trousers added to the uproar by shouting into my
ear and pulling at me.

"We haven't time!" he finally managed to make himself heard. "We're
dreadfully late now, sir! You must come with us."

Hoddy, too, had caught hold of me by the other arm.

"Come on, boss. There's gotta be some reason why he's got himself in an
uproar about whatever it is. You'll see her again."

Then, the whole gang--Hoddy, the thin man with the black homburg, his
younger accomplice in identical garb, and the chauffeur--all closed in
on me and pushed me, pulled me, half-carried me, fifty yards across the
concrete to where their air-car was parked. By this time, the tall
blond had gotten clear of the mob around her and was waving frantically
at me. I tried to wave back, but I was literally crammed into the car
and flung down on the seat. At the same time, the chauffeur was jumping
in, extending the car's wings, jetting up.

"Great God!" I bellowed. "This is the damnedest piece of impudence I've
ever had to suffer from any subordinates in my whole State Department
experience! I want an explanation out of you, and it'd better be a good
one!"

There was a deafening silence in the car for a moment. The thin man
moved himself off my lap, then sat there looking at me with the
heartbroken eyes of a friendly dog that had just been kicked for
something which wasn't really its fault.

"Mr. Ambassador, you can't imagine how sorry we all are, but if we
hadn't gotten you away from the spaceport and to the Embassy at once, we
would all have been much sorrier."

"Somebody here gunnin' for the Ambassador?" Hoddy demanded sharply.

"Oh, no! I hadn't even thought of that," the thin man almost gibbered.
"But your presence at the Embassy is of immediate and urgent necessity.
You have no idea of the state into which things have gotten.... Oh,
pardon me, Mr. Ambassador. I am Gilbert W. Thrombley, your charge
d'affaires." I shook hands with him. "And Mr. Benito Gomez, the
Secretary of the Embassy." I shook hands with him, too, and started to
introduce Mr. Hoddy Ringo.

Hoddy, however, had turned to look out the rear window; immediately, he
gave a yelp.

"We got a tail, boss! Two of them! Look back there!"

There were two black eight-passenger aircars, of the same model,