Nelva's smile was ever so bright. Yet looking from her to the bland-faced spaceship captain and sullen-eyed, hate-glowering Pfaff, Dane felt a sudden, swift wave of uneasiness.
This business—somehow, it was all too neatly organized, too smooth.
But there was nothing he could do about it. Not now; not till he knew more.
"All right with me," he shrugged. "Let's go."
Did the blind behind Nelva's eyes flicker for the barest instant? He wondered.
"Good!" Impulsively, it seemed, she caught his hand. "This way—"
Wordless, taut-nerved, looking neither to right nor left, Dane walked with her from the room.
CHAPTER IV
It was quiet, here in Nelva Guthrie's office in the Record Center. She said, "It takes a few minutes for the cell-sheets to come through, Mr. Dane, and I know you must be tired. Why don't you lie down on the couch while we're waiting?"