och nodded. "Object lesson!"

The one good thing about the captain, Gordon decided, was that he
believed in doing his own dirtiest work. When he was finished, he turned
to two of the other captives.

"Get a stretcher, and take him wherever he belongs," he ordered. "I'm
leaving you two able to walk for that. But if _you_ get caught again,
you'll get still worse."

The squad went in, tired and sore; all had taken a severe beating in the
brawls. But there was little grumbling. Gordon saw grudging admiration
in their eyes for Murdoch, who had taken more punishment than they had.

Gordon rode back in the official car with Murdoch and both were silent
most of the way. But the captain stirred finally, sighing. "Poor
devils!"

Gordon jerked up in surprise. "The gang?"

"No, the cops they're giving me. We're covered, Gordon. But the
Stonewall gang is backing Wayne. He's let me come in because he figures
it will get him more votes. But afterwards, he'll have me out; and then
the boys with me will be marks for the gang when it comes back. Besides,
it'll show on the books that they didn't kick into his fund. I can
always go back to Earth, and I'll try to take you along. But it's going
to be tough on them."

Bruce Gordon grimaced. "I've got a yellow ticket, from Security."

Murdoch blinked. He dropped his eyes slowly. "So you're _that_ Gordon?
But you're still a good cop."

They rode on further in silence, until Gordon broke the ice to ease the
tension. He found himself liking the other.

"What makes you think Wayne will be re-elected? Nobody wants him, except
a gang of crooks and those in power."

Murdoch grinned bitterly. "Ever see a Martian election? No, you're a
firster. He can't lose! And then hell is going to pop, and this whole
planet may be blown wide open!"

It fitted with the dire predictions of Security, and with the spying
Gordon was going to do--according to them.

He discussed it with Mother Corey, who agreed that Wayne would be
re-elected.

"Can't lose," the old man said. He was getting even fatter, now that he
was eating better food from the fair restaurant around the corner.

"He'll win," Mother Corey repeated. "And you'll turn honest all over,
now you're in uniform. Take me, cobber. I figured on laying low for a
while, then opening up a few rooms for a good pusher or two, maybe a
high-class duchess. Cost 'em more, but they'd be respectable. Only now
I'm respectable myself, they don't look so good