"You're accusing me of robbery?" Uncle John roared, the veins of his temple standing out. "You ... a murderer, a thief! Good Lord! You accuse me when I arrive to find you committing burglary!" He pointed to the blasted safe door.
"I'll admit," my father said, smiling, "that my original intention was to take two-thirds of the palladium, force Stephen aboard, and leave. With a murder charge hanging over me, I couldn't afford to take the matter of the metal to court. But now something has occurred that in my wildest dreams I hadn't hoped for. At no time did I take into account that vain, boastful streak in your character, John. You had committed an act which you thought supremely skilful, supremely clever, yet you had to play the pious, honest business man. You longed to boast of it, to tell someone, but to do so would have meant your neck. And so, bursting to recount your cleverness in gaining control of Cerean Mining, you yielded to sheer folly. You kept a diary!" My father waved toward the leather-bound book he had found in the safe.
For just an instant Uncle John remained motionless, shadows flickering over his gaunt face. Then he leaped, clutching for the book.
Quick as he had been, Taon was quicker. The big Jovian seemed to slide across the room as though on wires. His huge hand caught Uncle John, held him back as one would hold a child.
My father, who had not even blinked, flipped through the pages of the little black book.
"It was clever, John," he said serenely. "Very subtle. You heard me coming, that night, rayed Conroy, ran outside. I entered, knelt at his side. It was then, dying, that he told me of his daughter on earth. A moment later you entered, caught me supposedly red-handed. Stephen, on the stairs above, saw me kneeling beside Conroy, saw you enter. Even so, I might have had a chance in court if I hadn't lost my head, run away. Naturally you hushed the matter up, 'for the honor of the family.' You didn't want an I.P. patrol investigating the crime. The mine was in your control and you won Stephen over by not prosecuting me. It might have been wiser if you had. However, I also believe in the honor of the family. Clare and I have no wish to see you in the lethal-ray chamber. We'll take a third of the palladium apiece," he motioned toward the heap of gray ingots, "and leave you a third. Which you don't deserve."
Eyes hollow pits, my uncle stared at the precious metal. The million he had counted on, reduced by two thirds! His bony fingers clutched his belt tightly.