ent, as he began pocketing the bills, Gordon thought he was
going to get away that easily. Fats watched him dourly, then swung on
his heel, just as a shrill, strangled cry went up from someone in the
crowd.

The deportee let his glance jerk to it, then froze. His eyes caught the
sight of a hand pointing behind him, and he knew it was too crude a
trick to bother with. But he paused, shocked to see the girl he'd seen
on Mother Corey's stairs gazing at him in well-feigned warning. In spite
of his better judgment, she caught his eyes and drew them down over
curves and swells that would always be right for arousing a man's
passion.

He glanced back at Fats, who had started to turn again. Gordon took a
step backwards, preparing to duck. Again the girl's finger motioned
behind him; he disregarded it--and then realized it was a mistake.

It was the faintest swish in the air that caught his ear; he brought his
shoulders up and his head down. Fast as his reaction was, it was almost
too late. The weapon crunched against his shoulder and slammed over the
back of his neck, almost knocking him out.

His heel lashed back and caught the shin of the man behind him. Gordon's
other leg spun him around, still crouching; the knife in his hand
started coming up, sharp edge leading, and aimed for the belly of the
bruiser who confronted him. The pug saw the blade and tried to check his
lunge.

Gordon felt the blade strike; but he was already pulling his swing, and
it only gashed a long streak. The thug shrieked hoarsely and fell over.
That left the way clear to the door; Bruce Gordon was through it and
into the night in two soaring leaps. After only a few days on Mars, his
legs were still hardened to Earth gravity, and he had more than a double
advantage over the others.

Outside, it was the usual Martian night in the poorer section of the
dome, which meant near-darkness. Most of the street lights had never
been installed--graft had eaten up the appropriations, instead--and the
nearest one was around the corner, leaving the side of Fats' Place in
the shadow. Gordon checked his speed, threw himself flat, and rolled
back against the building, just beyond the steps that led to the street.

Feet pounded out of the door above as Fats and the bouncer broke
through. Gordon's hand had already knotted a couple of coins into his
kerchief; he waited until the two turned uncertainly up the street and
tossed it. It struck the wall near the corner,