The policeman who had spoken shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said. "We're acting on Mr. Eli's orders, not yours. We'll have to hold Mr. Kensington until Mr. Eli arrives."
She glared at them. The one who had spoken was big and burly and efficient-looking. The other was sallow and silent, with a deadly cast to his thin face.
Then she saw her lighter-gun, lying on the lobby floor beside the chair in which she had gone to sleep.
She bent down, casually, and picked it up. She straightened, the little instrument ready in her hand.
"This is not a cigaret lighter, but a heatgun," she said flatly. "I'm in charge here, and I say Mr. Kensington is to be permitted to go free. If any effort is made to stop him, I'll burn you down."
Both police heatguns swung up in short arcs and trained on her. The burly policeman spoke gently.
"I'm sorry, Miss Cara Nome, but we're under orders from Mr. Eli, and we intend to follow them," he said. "I'd hate to see you injured, but if you blast either of us the other one will burn off your hand."
"No, Maya!" exclaimed Dark, getting to his feet. "Don't! There's no point in your getting hurt for my sake."
She ignored him.