ccepted their tribute to her beauty as a
matter of course. What a wife to have and introduce as his wife to
other men, and see the look in their eyes.

He remembered suddenly that he had not once mentioned that he was a
Director of UT. Somehow the conversation had never been led to a
subject where he could have said it. He made a mental note to tell her
next time. It seemed strange that he had been with five people so many
hours without informing them that he was a Director of UT. He had done
the same thing last night, now he remembered. But they had seemed to
like him without it.

He let himself into his hotel room and turned on the light, but the
first sidewise glimpse of himself in the mirror was disturbing. He
solved that problem by the remarkably simple expedient of turning the
light out again, and undressed in the dark, grinning foolishly.

VI

Approaching the scientists' and technicians' row along the subsurface
arcades, the expensive restaurants grew fewer and were replaced by
German-type beer halls, schools with courses advertised in their
posted schedules whose titles were completely unintelligible to him,
and second hand bookstalls selling battered technical books and
journals whose titles were undecipherable in any tongue Bryce could
think of. The lunch hour crowds were beginning to pour out into the
arcades from elevators and tube trains in a rush to get first place in
their favorite eating places.

Pierce half turned as if his eyes caught on the expression of a face
behind them.

"Carter! There you are, you bastard!" The voice came from behind him,
thick with rage, but more than that was the insult. It meant
challenge. This was nothing in which Pierce could defend him!

Bryce wheeled, left hand automatically plucking out his magnomatic,
wondering if the attacker would be the honorable kind of duelist who
would hold fire long enough for him to get his gun out.

Miraculously it seemed to be happening. He already had his sights
halfway on to the speaker when he recognized him, a gross heavy figure
he had seen a hundred times. Mr. Beldman of the Board of Directors.
What was he doing on the Moon?

Beldman stood with his fists on his hips and his legs spraddled,
sneering at Bryce. "That's right," he said, heavily sarcastic, "start
shootin' when you're surrounded by innocent spectators; when you know
I can't draw on you. That's the way of a crook." The husky base voice
echoed from the walls. Behind