CHAPTER III
AN OLD FRIEND
He reached for the flame-gun at his belt, then glanced at the pale features of the girl on the swinging couch. No, it wouldn't do. He wouldn't resist when they boarded. They'd get him in the end and it would only endanger her life foolishly.
A chattering of the space-wireless signal told him he was being contacted for communication.
Heart sinking, he plugged in, cutting in a serried bank of glowing tubes. Static rattled, and a mottled picture began to form.
"That's odd!" he told himself. "They didn't try to contact me before. And odd because those police are blue devils for radio wizardry. I've never seen their power so low!"
A pleased chuckle came from an amplifier.
"Don't worry none, Doc," the hoarse voice continued. "It ain't th' coppers! Hell, my televiz panel's not so hot, but I like 'em that way."
Murky on the reforming mirror, he saw a dark visage with keen piercing eyes, a tiny mustache over a cruel hyphen of a mouth. The features were vaguely familiar.
"Who are you?" he demanded of his mysterious caller. "And where are you calling from?"