"What?"
"We found this character flat on his face in the road, as dead a corpse as ever died."
Paul exploded again. "That proves it," he said. "Now—"
The spaceport guard shook his head. This shake was echoed by the sergeant of police.
"But I've work to do—"
The sergeant smiled unhappily. "We've work to do too, son. I'll call you Grayson for the benefit of the doubt. There is not much doubt that something is highly rotten here, but we've got to be certain. There's been one slugging and robbery, the attempted theft of spacecraft, and now a man killed by armed guards in performance of their duty. This is going to require clearing up before we let you go."
"But you know where to find me. I'm due on Proxima Centauri I to check the arrival of the Bureau of Astrogation survey beam. I'm to take off—"
"IF you are Paul Grayson."
"If the other guy was Paul Grayson, would he have run from cops?"
The sergeant laughed bitterly. "This may come as a shock to you, son. But you have no idea of how many of our Nicest People, Pillars of Society, and Solid Citizens have secrets in their daily lives that make them shun Law and Order when Law and Order comes toward them with a drawn pistol, a subpoena, or a warrant for arrest."