The sergeant smiled. "If this were the first attempt to steal a spacecraft, I'd be surprised."
The guard shook his head. "It's more than that," he added sagely. "If the other guy was a thief bent on swiping a BurAst ship, he could have gone off in it ten minutes before the second Paul Grayson arrived. He didn't. He was waiting for the take-off signal; and if he were a crook, he hoped to fill in the real Paul Grayson's place. If he was the real Grayson, we've killed a frightened Bureau man, and this bird here—"
Paul looked at the standard clock. It was now moving past the precise second marked for take-off. He sighed resignedly and relaxed. "For the moment we'll assume that I am Paul Grayson," he said quietly. "So soon as we can find someone to corroborate me, the second part of your supposition will have no grounds."
The sergeant shook his head. "I think we'd all best head for the station and wait this thing out."
Paul gulped. "You're going to jug me?"
"Both of you."
"But you can't arrest me—"
"Five will get you eight," chuckled the sergeant.
Nora Phillips came forward until she stood between Paul and the sergeant. "Why am I being arrested?" she demanded.
The sergeant smiled affably. "No one is being arrested."