But the old missionary barred his rush with a steel forearm. "Slowly, my friend! What is gone?"
"The ball of ekalastron! It's worth a fortune, and it's mine! This snoopy young thief—"
Salvation turned to Chip sternly. "Well, young man—is this true? Did you steal it? If so—"
"I didn't. I swear I didn't!"
"He was bending over Jenkins," Amborg raged, "when the lights went on. He's got it! Let me at him!"
"There has been sufficient violence!" snapped Salvation Smith. He turned to Chip. "Young man, I order you to let your accuser search you. If you are truly innocent, you will not demur. If you refuse—" He shifted his rifle from one horny palm to another significantly. "Justice shall prevail!"
"Very well!" said Chip. He submitted himself to Amborg's triumphant search. His flesh ran cold at the feel of the man's icy fingers, and a dull resentment suffused him—but he got his reward in the look of bafflement that grew on Amborg's face as it became clear that the missing sphere was not on his person. "Are you satisfied now?" he demanded.
Amborg's normally pale face was whiter still with impotent fury; his eyes flamed with hatred. "It's not on you," he admitted. "But I know you took it. You've hidden it somewhere. I'm not through with you yet, sailor! I'll have that metal or—"
"There will be no 'or'!" proclaimed Salvation Smith stridently. "The lad has passed the test and proven himself guiltless; the case is closed. He will walk from this place unharmed—in my company! 'The true man shall suffer no hurt, neither shall the righteous fail.' Come, my son!"
And he lifted his gun. Blaze Amborg's lips thinned to a hard, white line. But he made no reckless move as the two men stalked silently from the room....