"I am Howard Clevis," said the visitor.
"Fine," mumbled Farradyne. "So?" He looked at one of the few white shirts in a thousand miles and grunted disapprovingly.
"I've a job for you, Farradyne."
"Who do you want killed?"
"Take it easy. You're the Charles Farradyne who—"
"Who dumped the Semiramide into The Bog, and you're Santa Claus, here to undo it?"
"This is on the level, Farradyne."
Farradyne laughed shortly, but the sound was all scorn and no humor. While his raw bark was still echoing in the room, Farradyne added, "Drop it, Clevis. With a thousand licensed spacemen handy everywhere, willing to latch onto an honest buck, any man that comes half way across Venus to offer Farradyne a job can't be on the level."
Clevis eyed Farradyne calculatingly. "I should think you might enjoy the chance."
"I'm a bum, but I'm no murderer."