"Trouble?" exclaimed Sinclair. "You're not serious!"
Connel nodded his head. "It's probably nothing but a club. However, I'd like to get some facts on it."
"Have you spoken to anyone else?" asked Sinclair.
"I just came from the Sharkey plantation. It's deserted. Not a soul around. I'll drop back by there before I return to Venusport." Connel paused and looked squarely at Sinclair. "Well?"
"I don't know much about them, Major," replied the planter. "It always seemed to me nothing more than a group of planters getting together—"
Connel cut him off. "Possibly, but why didn't you join?"
"Well—"
"Aren't all your friends in it?"
"Yes, but I just don't have time. I have a big place, and there's only me and my foreman and housekeeper now. All the field hands left some time ago."
"Where'd they go?"