"Electric," answered one of the Uvans.
"Electric," Bill murmured. Then the light dawned. The electric buzzer on the door wasn't insulated. He had punched a live wire.
The cumulative strain of being followed by the grape-headed natives, then the shock from the buzzer had its effects on Bill. His legs sagged uncertainly and a cold sweat broke out, bathing his brow. He reached in one pocket, bringing forth a handy flask of super-potent Venusian brandy and unscrewed the cap.
Raising the flask, he felt the searing warmth trickle down his throat. What happened an instant later couldn't have come from the brandy. Bill felt something hit him from all four sides. It had the composite solidness of an avalanche, a few battering rams and a dozen Uvans.
A second before his consciousness keeled over backward into a depthless funnel of darkness he was under the distinct impression of seeing his brandy flask spin upward, spilling liquor over an orange-eyed Uvan. But that wasn't all. The Uvan simply dissolved before his eyes like a sugar man soaked by water!
With his eyes still shut, his neck and wrists clamped in the pillory, these last thoughts flashed through Bill's mind. Was it a crime to drink on Uva? What about the caviar? Why had the Uvans jumped on him without explaining? What were they going to do now?
A bustle of excitement in the market-place caused him to open his eyes again. He saw the stubby bodied Uvans pushing two new pillories into place, one on each side of Bill's.
It was then that Bill gasped. His eyes blinked in incredible wonder. "It's not possible!" he murmured. The head thrust through the pillory on the right was familiarly dainty—yes, Kitty Carlton!
Bill's astonished eyes swerved to the left.