It turned a knob on top, and Maynard whipped his MacMillan from its holster and blasted the tentacle off at the "shoulder."
And then, in Maynard's mind there came a thought. It staggered the patrol marshal, and he blinked in unbelief. It rang in his mind: "You shouldn't have done that!"
"What?" asked Maynard aloud. "Why—?"
"You shouldn't have done that. I meant no harm with this. Now I may not retune it to your fellows."
"But—?"
"It is a development that will ultimately win for us," came the thought. "A thought-beam transmitter."
Maynard sat down suddenly. "No," he said. "I'm mad! I must be."
Hamilton said: "That I doubt, Guy. What's the matter, though. You look ill, but madness I doubt."
"He says that thing on his head and belt is a thought-beam transmitter."
"What? He says—?"