The Martian watched the man writing on the high desk. He thought that this man must be some person of authority—some ruler of the people, perhaps. After long and painful uncertainty, he nerved himself to speak:
"Please help me...."
The man behind the desk looked up and smiled. "Yes. That is what we are here for.... Only be patient," he said, and returned to his writing.
The Martian remained quiet. He would not dare disturb the man again, but he kept watching him....
"Good morning, Your Honor!"
At the sound of the voice, he gave a start of surprise and fear. Blumberg walked towards him, smiling. He struggled, and averted his eyes. But his captor held him tightly. Blumberg patted him on the head with his large, soft hand. He trembled.
"One of yours?" said the man behind the high desk. "What is the trouble with him? He seems distressed."
Blumberg smiled at the other, and tapped his own head three times with his fingertip. The other raised his eyebrows.
"Tell the Judge about yourself," said Blumberg softly. "He is a great man, and he can help you."
The Martian was surprised that Blumberg would allow him to speak. He made a desperate effort: