"I don't think you appreciate your position, Cosmo," said the planter silkily. "No sir, I don't." He heaved himself from his chair with a grunt. "I've something to show you. Come with me."
The two Jovian Dawn Men fell in beside Cosmo again as he trailed the planter down three steps, along a short corridor to a sunken court. Bemmelman paused, pointed to a huge wooden cross in the center of the court.
"You weren't depending on him, were you," he smirked.
Cosmo felt his blood run cold. His fists clenched until the nails bit into the flesh.
The body of Penang-ihtok hung from the cross. The outcast Fozoql had been crucified upside down.
"You see," said Bemmelman, his voice heavy with assurance; "how futile it is to oppose me."
Cosmo turned away from the cross with its grisly burden. He looked coldly, speculatively at Bemmelman's beefy smiling face. At the look, fright glimmered in the planter's eyes. He made a quick gesture to the Jovians who seized Cosmo by either arm.
"Take him away," he ordered. "We'll talk it over tomorrow."
Cosmo was conducted into a plainly, but comfortably furnished room. One of the blue giants immediately stretched himself on the sofa and went to sleep. The other, though, took a stance by the door, folded his arms, regarded Cosmo with the unwinking stare of an idol. Obviously, the Jovian primitives intended to spell each other.
With a grunt of annoyance, Cosmo retreated into the bathroom. He had grossly underestimated Bemmelman, he realized with chagrin. A malignant genius, the slave breeder had no more scruples than his Dawn Men.