Webster shook his head worriedly. "You'll have to go to the Uvan Thought Clinic. Just present an equals there and they'll give you a completed answer." Webster hesitated a second, fished into his pocket and brought out a personal calling card. He handed it to Bill. "There's liable to be some trouble," he added. "If you get in trouble, here's my card."
Webster jumped back again at the sound of footsteps shuffling near the door. He hastily hid the brandy flask and three cups, and not a moment too soon for Castlebottom and an Uvan guard who lugged a stubby radium-plate gun around without the vaguest notion of why he carried it, burst into the office.
"So! Stealing my fiancé, you despicable freebooter," he cried, shaking his fist at Bill.
"Tut, Tut," Bill grinned. "Watch out. You're under arrest. Whatever you say'll be held against you."
Castlebottom smouldered pinkly. "Arrest! You'll be under arrest. I've radioed the Patrol to rescue Kitty and me."
"They can't land," said Bill.
"They'll land. They're getting a special permit from the government. I saw to that too."
"I say, what are you going to do about this, freebooter?" Kitty asked. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy the entire situation. She stood with her back to Webster, staring at the two younger men.
Bill grinned wryly. "You asked for it," he said. "Come on!" His arm swept around her slim, belted waist, urging her toward the door and out in the market-place.