"Why, impossible," Gulver said in a strained voice. "Armaments? Ridiculous. There's been an error...."
At the baggage warehouse Gulver looked glumly at the opened cases of guns. "No, of course not," he said dully. "Not my baggage. Not my baggage at all."
Arapoulous appeared, supporting the stumbling figure of Mr. Karsh.
"What—what's this?" Gulver spluttered. "Karsh? What's happened?"
"He had a little fall. He'll be okay," Arapoulous said.
"You'd better help him to the ship," Retief said. "It's ready to lift. We wouldn't want him to miss it."
"Leave him to me!" Gulver snapped, his eyes slashing at Karsh. "I'll see he's dealt with."
"I couldn't think of it," Retief said. "He's a guest of the Corps, you know. We'll see him safely aboard."
Gulver turned, signaled frantically. Three heavy-set men in identical drab suits detached themselves from the wall, crossed to the group.