The captain walked in a few minutes later. "Horitz," he said, "you deserve a medal. Who is it?"
Tick-tick-tick, said the amplifier.
"Maybe you," Horitz told him. He produced his electrogun and waved the captain over toward the wall. "No offense, but I've got to make sure."
"What!" shouted the captain, his face reddening. "Are you crazy, Horitz? Put that gun down!"
"Shut up," said Horitz, "please." He moved over to the connecting door, opened it and said, "Bring them out."
Walsh and Sommers herded their prisoners back into the room. The Jahores had subsided some time before, but broke out afresh when they saw that they were not going to be released. The captain tried to outshout the Jahores, and it took Horitz a full minute to quiet them.
When they were silent at last, he said, "Oscar has pointed out each of you as the one who murdered Professor Thomasson. Now's the time to confess."
No one said anything. Horitz picked up the passenger list from the table and glanced at it. "All right," he said. He adjusted his transceiver and said, "Stewards' Department? This is Horitz, in stateroom B39. I want the stewards who serve A deck Section 3, C deck Section 5, and the Captain's quarters. Get them down here fast."
The stewards arrived, looking apprehensive. There were five of them in all: two for each of the passenger sections, and one for Tooker. The latter said to Horitz, "Is there anything wrong, sir?"