"That's right," said Harkway.
"Got a message for you," said the squat man. "From Captain Lawrence Rack, United Uth Space Navy."
"The Earth Space Navy was dissolved twenty years ago," said Harkway.
The squat man sighed. "You wanna heah the message or don't you?" he asked.
"Go ahead," said Harkway. His nostrils were pale, and a muscle stood out at the side of his jaw.
"Heah it is. You're plannin' to hold a meetin' of the vehmin lovehs society, right?"
As Harkway began to reply, the squat man leaned across the table and backhanded him across the mouth, knocking him sideways out of his chair.
"Don't," said the squat man. He turned and strolled out.
Cudyk and Ferguson helped Harkway up. The man's eyes were staring wildly out of his pale face, and a thin trickle of blood was running from a pulped lip. "Who was that man?" he asked in a whisper.
"His name is Monk," said Cudyk. "At least that is the only name he has been known to answer to. He is one of Rack's lieutenants—Rack, as you probably know, is the leader of the activists in this sector. Mr. Harkway, I'm sorry this happened. But I advise you to wait for a week or so before you hold your meeting. There is no question of courage involved. It would be suicide."