"I didn't mean any harm," whined the cab driver. "A guy calls me and says for me to meet three Space Cadets."
"What guy?" snapped Tom.
"A guy I once knew when I was working the fields in the jungle belt. I worked on a plantation as a digger."
"What's his name?" asked Roger.
"I don't know his name. He's just a guy. He calls me and says it's worth a hundred credits to pick up three Space Cadets from the hotel and hold 'em for an hour. I figured the best way to hold you would be to make you take your clothes off."
"What did he look like?" asked Roger.
"A little guy, with a bald head and a limp. That's all I know—honest."
"A limp, eh?" asked Tom. "A little fellow?"
"How little?" asked Astro, getting the drift of Tom's question.
"Real little. About five feet maybe, not much more'n that!"