"I am 'Mr. Sam,' Mr. Craig. You might know me by the full name, Samuel Cocteau, but I doubt it. Even the names of the infamous do not penetrate space."
"I guess not," Craig agreed. "But you said something about my being an enemy of tyranny."
"Whether you like it at once or not, you are temporarily one of us—one of the 'we' Philip has been speaking of. But all of that in due time. Right now it is necessary for us to leave here."
"They're going to try to find us tonight?" asked Phil, startled.
"Yes, a tribute to Mr. Craig," said the old man. "A Geiger team is being readied at the station."
Craig started to protest as the boy began hurriedly to pick up his few possessions in the room.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Craig," the man said. "I must ask you to decide now whether to trust us and our judgment. There is grave danger for you if you are caught by the Civil Control. The report I have received is that you are largely unaware of the 'crimes against the state' you have committed. The Civil Control hoped to capture you before you find them out. But that, of course, is my word only. There is no time to give you proof, even if I had it."
Craig's mind whirled under the sudden onslaught of new facts. He had followed a peddler without knowing why he did it. He had bought polyester he had no use for. He had followed a boy who beckoned to him. Now—how much longer was he to move haphazardly through Terra like a cork on a wind-blown sea? Who were these strange fugitives who said he was one of them and who lived in the heart of a radioactive city?
"Well, Mr. Craig?" asked Cocteau quietly.
Craig glanced at the boy. The child's eyes were wide and pleading in the dim light of the oil lamp.