The ship's barber whipped the apron off Sam Purcell. "There, I cut hair. I mean, it's all done."
Sam glanced in a mirror. "Yup, and a good job too." He stood up and reached for his jacket. "Well, that's about all there was to the affair," Sam continued. "Thurwinker let the word leak out to the natives that Goma had captured Roy. This made Goma a bigger hero than ever. We marched Roy down to the first transport that came in as if he was a prisoner and kept our guns ready until they took off just to impress the natives. Of course, we had to let our hair grow but we got the iridium and that's what we were after. Just as long as the natives don't see anyone with a haircut, everything will be fine."
The barber laughed. "I wouldn't have believed your story if I hadn't seen your hair."
As Sam prepared to go, Captain Webster entered the barber shop and stared at Sam. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" he asked.
"Maybe," Sam admitted with a hostile stare. "I'm one of your passengers, if that'll help you any."
"Of course," Captain Webster chuckled. "I don't believe I got your name, though."
"Purcell," Sam replied. "Sam Purcell."
"Well, well!" Captain Webster replied, jovially. "I'm certainly glad to meet you, Mr. Purcell. Webster's the name." He extended a plump hand to Sam.
Sam looked at the hand as though it were slightly decayed and walked out.