The Authority of the Rift constabulary is acknowledged universally, though sometimes grudgingly. The men of Aidennsport, therefore, sullenly reported to Wellesley, and brought their families.
It is a singular thing, but almost every birth and death in the galaxy is recorded by the Empire. The laws concerning this are old and stringently enforced. Therefore Wellesley already had a fairly accurate estimate of the true population of Aidennsport, and it came close to the number offered by Amos Sealilly.
Following the seldom-used manual of the Bureau, he received vital statistics, made micro-photos and dermal prints, and endeavored a minute scrutiny of every man, woman and child that passed before him. He was finished by mid-afternoon.
Evidence of ingeneration he found in plenty, in the marked similarity of features among certain families, but nothing which could be called deviation or mutation. Not even polydactylism, which is one of the earlier manifestations. Still, he knew that the physical impress of the mutant was often subtle, and that he might have overlooked something.
In none of the females could he identify the girl of last evening. If she had failed to appear—was hiding in the village—might not others be hiding too?
The only recourse was to study the natives and try again. In many cases deviation among homo sapiens, who had colonized the Rim planets, simulated the natural characteristics of native races. The relationship between mutation and environment was obvious.
The chief magistrate, factor, or leader of any colony with an official grant was required by law to assist and obey any member of the Rift police in the capacity of a deputy.
Wellesley called Amos Sealilly, who had been avoiding him all day. "Is there a tribe of the dominant native species near here?" he asked.
Sealilly was still drinking, and saluted stiffly. "In the swamp, Lieutenant."
"Guide me there."