play all his cards at one turn.
"We'll have a thousand credits worth of information."

The barman's eyes narrowed into black slits. "What kind of information
would bring that kind of a price?" he asked.

"Information about a man," said Strong.

"What man?" asked the barman. He dropped his hand out of sight behind
the bar. Tom's eye caught the move and he wished the customs men hadn't
taken away their paralo-ray guns.

Just at that moment he heard Roger's unmistakable laugh and turned to
see the blond cadet, followed by Astro, enter, cross the room, and slap
the bar for service.

"Let me take care of these two," muttered the bartender and walked down
to the end of the bar. Facing Roger and Astro, he snarled, "What'll it
be?"

"Coupla bottles of Martian water," drawled Roger.

"Get out of here," roared the bartender. "We don't sell kids' drinks in
here."

"Two bottles of Martian water!" growled Astro and leaned over the bar
threateningly. Strong and Tom watched the performance with amused eyes.
Without a word, the barman opened the bottles of Martian water and gave
them to Roger and Astro. He turned back to Strong.

"These young rocketheads think they're so blasted tough," he sneered,
"and then drink kids' soda pop."

Strong looked at Roger and Astro. "That fellow on the right," indicating
Astro's size, "looks like he could be a little more than a child, if he
got mad."

The barman snorted and leaned over the bar. "What about that thousand
credits?" he asked.

"What about it?" countered Strong.

"That's a lot of money just for information," said the barman.

"It's my money," replied Strong coolly, "and my business!"

"What kind of information you interested in," asked the bartender.

"I told you, information about a man," said Strong. "Gus Wallace. Happen
to know him?" Strong pulled a roll of crisp credit notes out of his
jacket pocket. The barman looked at them greedily.

"Maybe. What'cha want with him?" he asked.

"He knifed a friend of ours in here two years ago."

"Yeah?" drawled the barman. "Who?"

"Pete," answered Strong, suddenly realizing he didn't know the
scar-faced man's last name.

"Pete? Pete who?" asked the barman craftily.

"What are you trying to do?" snapped Tom suddenly. "Play space lawyer?
You know Pete was knifed in here by Gus Wallace two years ago! Carved up
good!" He made a slashing gesture from his ear to his throat, indicating
the scar on Pete's face.

"So you want W