to count the money. About a tenth of what he had won--not
even enough to open a cheap poker den, let alone bribe his way back to
Earth.

The girl was out from under his knee at the first relaxation of
pressure. Her hand scooped up the knife, and she came charging toward
him, her mouth a taut slit across half-bared teeth. Gordon rolled out of
her swing, and brought his foot up. It caught her squarely under the
chin, and she went down and out.

He picked up the scattered money and her knife, then made sure she was
still breathing. He ran his hands over her, looking for a hiding place
for more money; there was none.

"Good work, gov'nor," the kid's thin voice approved, and Gordon swung to
see the other getting up painfully. The kid grinned, rubbing his bruise.
"No hard feelings, gov'nor, now! They paid me to stall you, so I did.
You bonused me to protect you, and I bloody well tried. Honest Izzy,
that's me. Gonna buy me a job as a cop. That's why I needed the scratch.
Okay, gov'nor?"

Gordon hauled back his hand to knock the other from his feet, and then
dropped it. A grin writhed onto his face, and broke into sudden grudging
laughter.

"Okay, Izzy," he admitted. "For this stinking planet, I guess you're
something of a saint. Come along, and we'll both apply for that
job--after I get my stuff."

He might as well join the law. Security had wanted him to police their
damned planet for them--and he might as well do it officially.

He tossed the girl's knife down beside her, motioned to Izzy, and began
heading for Mother Corey's.

Chapter III

THE GRAFT IS GREEN

Izzy seemed surprised when he found that Gordon was turning in to the
quasi-secret entrance to Mother Corey's. "Coming here myself," he
explained. "Mother got ahold of a load of snow, and sent me out to
contact a big pusher. Coming back, the goons picked me up and gave me
the job on you. Hey, Mother!"

Bruce Gordon didn't ask how Mother Corey had acquired the dope. When
Earth had deported all addicts two decades before, it had practically
begged for dope smuggling.

The gross hulk of Mother Corey appeared almost at once. "Izzy and Bruce.
Didn't know you'd met, cobbers. Contact, Izzy?"

"Ninety per cent for uncut," Izzy answered.

They went up to Gordon's hole-in-the-wall, with Mother Corey wheezing
behind, while the rotten wood of the stairs groaned under his grotesque
bulk. At his questions, Gordon told the story tersely.

Mother Corey n