I said, "Sure, sure. But what was your idea?"
"There are many towns along the Venusian frontiers where no entertainment of the—proper sort has been available. I propose to remedy that. I propose to charter your circus, Mister Shannon, to make a tour of several settlements along the Tehara Belt."
Bucky had relaxed. His grey-green eyes began to gleam. He started to speak, and I kicked him again.
"That would be expensive, Mister Beamish," I said. "We'd have to cancel several engagements...."
He looked at me. I was lying, and he knew it. But he said,
"I quite understand that. I would be prepared...."
The curtains were yanked back suddenly. Beamish shut up. Bucky and I glared at the head and shoulders poking in between the drapes.
It was Gow, our zoo-man—a big, ugly son-of-a-gun from a Terran colony on Mercury. I was there once. Gow looks a lot like the scenery—scowling, unapproachable, and tough. His hands, holding the curtains apart, had thick black hair on them and were not much larger than the hams of a Venusian swamp-rhino.
He said, "Boss, Gertrude's actin' up again."
"Gertrude be blowed," growled Bucky. "Can't you see I'm busy?"