cut off supply unless they
see your blood splattered liberally all the way from here to the
equator."

Zeckler was visibly shaken. "Look," he said weakly, "so I wasn't so
smart. What am I going to do? I mean, are you going to sit quietly by
and let them butcher me? How could I defend myself in a legal setup like
_this_?"

Meyerhoff smiled coolly. "You're going to get your sly little con-man
brain to working, I think," he said softly. "By Interplanetary Rules,
they have to give you a trial in Terran legal form--judge, jury, court
procedure, all that folderol. They think it's a big joke--after all,
what could a judicial oath mean to them?--but they agreed. Only thing
is, they're going to hang you, if they die trying. So you'd better get
those stunted little wits of yours clicking--and if you try to implicate
_me_, even a little bit, I'll be out of there so fast you won't know
what happened."

With that Meyerhoff walked to the door. He jerked it inward sharply, and
spilled two guards over on their faces. "Privacy," he grunted, and
started back up the slippery corridor.

* * * * *

It certainly _looked_ like a courtroom, at any rate. In the front of the
long, damp stone room was a bench, with a seat behind it, and a small
straight chair to the right. To the left was a stand with twelve
chairs--larger chairs, with a railing running along the front. The rest
of the room was filled almost to the door with seats facing the bench.
Zeckler followed the shaggy-haired guard into the room, nodding
approvingly. "Not such a bad arrangement," he said. "They must have
gotten the idea fast."

Meyerhoff wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and shot the little
con-man a stony glance. "At least you've got a courtroom, a judge, and a
jury for this mess. Beyond that--" He shrugged eloquently. "I can't make
any promises."

In the back of the room a door burst open with a bang. Loud, harsh
voices were heard as half a dozen of the huge Altairians attempted to
push through the door at once. Zeckler clamped on the headset to his
translator unit, and watched the hubbub in the anteroom with growing
alarm. Finally the question of precedent seemed to be settled, and a
group of the Altairians filed in, in order of stature, stalking across
the room in flowing black robes, pug-nosed faces glowering with
self-importance. They descended upon the jury box, grunting and
scrapping with each other for the first-row