"Say," said Winters suddenly, "ain't you got a kid?"
"If you mean my son, Billy," said Logan, "he's asleep."
"I'd better check," said Winters, starting forward.
"Never mind him," said Vidac. "We haven't got all night and there's nothing a kid could do."
He pulled out a paper from his pocket and unfolded it, keeping his eyes on Logan. "Mr. Logan, we're going to foreclose your mortgage."
"Foreclose!" gasped Logan. "But—but I haven't even had time to gather in my first crop!"
"We've taken a look at your fields and we don't think you're doing a good job," said Vidac. "In this mortgage you signed there's a clause that states I can foreclose any time I want."
"But how can you judge a crop by just looking at the fields?" asked Jane.
"Oh, we have ways, Miss Logan." Vidac smiled. He walked to a near-by table, and pushing a stack of study spools to the floor, spread the paper in front of him. He looked up at Logan and indicated the paper. "Do you have a pen, or would you like to use mine?"