Vanning didn't move as the others left. Callahan took an oilskin packet from his belt and held it out. "Here's the treaty. I suppose you came after that."
The detective opened the bundle and checked its contents. He nodded. It was the vital treaty, which would have caused revolution on Callisto. Slowly Vanning tore it into tiny shreds, his eyes on Callahan. It was difficult, somehow, for him to find words.
The other man shrugged. "That's that. And I suppose you'll be taking me back to Earth—if we get out of this alive."
"Yeah," Vanning said tonelessly.
"Okay." Callahan's voice was tired. "Let's go. We haven't time to disguise everybody—that was just an excuse to give you the treaty. A private matter—"
He shuffled to the door, with the lumbering tread of the Swamja, and Vanning followed close at his heels.
The others were waiting.
Vanning said, "Okay. Let's start. No time to disguise ourselves. Stay behind—"
In a close group the five moved along the avenue, Callahan in the lead.