"It's all right. The master fuse blew out. The lights will be on in a moment."
On the heels of his speech the lights flashed on, driving the night upward. The fans recommenced their monotonous whirring.
Jaro Moynahan glanced at the table. The red-headed singer was gone. So was the pianist.
Jaro Moynahan sat quietly back down and poured himself another glass of Latonka. The pale green wine had a delicate yet exhilarating taste. It made him think of cool green grapes beaded with dew. On the hot, teeming planet of Mercury it was as refreshing as a cold plunge.
He wondered who was putting up the ten thousand Earth notes? Who stood to lose most in case of a revolution? The answer seemed obvious enough. Who, but Albert Peet. Peet controlled the Latonka trade for which there was a tremendous demand throughout the Universe.
And what had happened to the girl. Had the rebels abducted her. If so, he suspected that they had caught a tartar. The Red Witch had the reputation of being able to take care of herself.
He beckoned a waiter, paid his bill. As the Mercurian started to leave, a thought struck Jaro. These yellow-eyed Mercurians could see as well in the dark as any alley-prowling cat. For centuries they had lived most their lives beneath ground to escape the terrible rays of the sun. Only at night did they emerge to work their fields and ply their trades. He peeled off a bill, put it in the waiter's hands.
"What became of the red-headed singer?"
The Mercurian glanced at the bill, then back at the Earthman. There was no expression in his yellow eyes.
"She and the man, the queer white one who plays the piano, slipped out the gate to the street."