The clerk was bewildered, his protruding eyes growing larger than ever. "I—I think you'd better talk to the Office Manager," he said quickly. "If you'll wait just a moment...." Breathless, he almost ran for the glass door of an adjoining office. In a few seconds he reappeared, flushed with excitement, pointing Hendley out to a beige-uniformed official. Hendley was relieved to recognize the brisk, efficient man who had given him his final briefing when he entered the camp.
"Now then," the Office Manager said with a genial smile which failed to cover an acute inspection. "What is this about a confusion in status? I'm afraid my assistant was a bit, ah, excited."
"It's simple enough," Hendley said. "I'm a visitor. I shouldn't be here. A week ago I—"
"I think we'd better be concerned only with the, er, the present," the official said with a touch of impatience. "I see you're not wearing a visitor's uniform. Can you explain that?"
"Another man switched uniforms with me," Hendley said. "And more than just uniforms!"
The Manager frowned. "I see. It's irregular, of course, but no great harm done, I suppose. You were scheduled to leave today? What is your number?"
"TRH-247," Hendley said. "And I was scheduled to leave a week ago!"
The assistant, still hovering nearby, gasped. His superior eyed Hendley coldly, turned to the shocked clerk, and snapped, "Check that!" To Hendley he said, his manner now less carefully polite, "I think you'd better explain."
"I've been trying to," Hendley said evenly. "I was a visitor. A week ago I was attacked by a Freeman. He took my uniform and switched identity discs with me. He left camp in my place. That's all there is to it. I know I should have reported this sooner, but—"
"Here it is, sir!" the clerk said, rushing up with a section of tape from a computer. "But he left!"