The porgee pouch.
It would have been like the Ermetyne to investigate the pouch carefully, take out the gun and put the pouch back. But they might not have.
Somebody was bound to be watching. She couldn't find out—not until the instant after she decided to try the Denton.
"I can believe that," Lyad said. "Forgive me the discourtesy of so urgent an invitation, Trigger. A quite recent event made it seem necessary. As to the business—as a start, this gentleman is Doctor Veetonia. He is an investigator of extraordinary talents along his line. At the moment, he is a trifle tired because of the very long hours he worked last night."
Doctor Veetonia turned his head to look at her. "I did, First Lady? Well, that does explain this odd weariness. Did I work well?"
"Splendidly," Lyad assured him. "You were never better, Doctor."
He nodded, smiled vaguely and looked back at Trigger. "This must go, too, I suppose?"
"I'm afraid it must," Lyad said.
"A great pity!" Doctor Veetonia said. "A great pity. It would have been a pleasant memory. This very cool one!" The vague smile shifted in the lined face again. "You are so beautiful, child," he told Trigger, "in your anger and terror and despair. And above it still the gauging purpose, the strong, quick thinking. You will not give in easily. Oh, no! Not easily at all. First Lady," Doctor Veetonia said plaintively, "I should like to remember this one! It should be possible, I think."
Small, icy fingers were working up and down Trigger's spine. The Ermetyne gave her a light wink.