Five minutes passed before the door rattled and burst open.
Retief looked up. A gaunt leathery-skinned man wearing white ducks, a blue turtleneck sweater and a peaked cap tilted raffishly over one eye stared at Retief.
"Is this the joker?" he grated.
The thick-necked man edged past him, looked at Retief and snorted, "That's him, sure."
"I'm captain of this vessel," the first man said. "You've got two minutes to haul your freight out of here, buster."
"When you can spare the time from your other duties," Retief said, "take a look at Section Three, Paragraph One, of the Uniform Code. That spells out the law on confirmed space on vessels engaged in interplanetary commerce."
"A space lawyer." The captain turned. "Throw him out, boys."
Two big men edged into the cabin, looking at Retief.
"Go on, pitch him out," the captain snapped.
Retief put his cigar in an ashtray, and swung his feet off the bunk.