Jessup eyed him curiously. "Where are you going?"
Dane continued his unsteady march. He didn't bother to answer.
Thick-bodied Pfaff moved round to block him. "Hey, you! Mr. Jessup asked you a question!"
Dane veered to pass him.
Belligerent, bullet-head down, Pfaff thrust a foot between Dane's. Dane tripped and fell.
Now Nelva Guthrie was running to him; kneeling beside him. Her fingers were cool upon his face. "Let him alone, can't you?" she cried fiercely. "Haven't you done enough to him, without more of this torture?"
Jessup's smile faded just a little. "You've been a favorite of mine a long time, Nelva," he said in a too-quiet voice. "Don't jeopardize that status now."
The girl stared up at him, face tear-streaked. "Do you think I care about status at a time like this?"
"A dangerous question, my dear." The Security chief studied her for a long, long moment. "Now I find myself wondering if I can trust you further—and no matter how I phrase it, the answer comes back, 'No'."
Dane felt Nelva's fingers stiffen on his cheek. A tremor ran through her.