There was a knock on the door.
"That's the Commissioner," said Cosmo. "Let him in, Big Unse."
Mia looked wretched, frightened. "No," she said and bit her lip to stifle the rest of the protest.
Big Unse slid back the panel.
The fat commissioner waddled inside. He was even fatter than he appeared over the visoscreen. He bulged in his clothes like a sausage.
"Well, Hal," he began in a hearty voice, "you lucky dog. The fifty thou...." The words stuck in his throat. He stared at the hard faced green eyed man behind the desk, at Bemmelman in irons. He revolved slowly, taking in the silent men about the walls, the three girls. "Wh-what's this?" He sputtered, but there was a sick, frightened look in his eyes. "Where's the Renegade?"
"There he is, Commissioner," replied Cosmo dryly. "All done up in irons." He pointed at Bemmelman lying manacled on the sofa.
VIII
Bemmelman was the first to recover his voice. His neck swelled. He laughed hoarsely. "Nobody's fool enough to believe I'm the Renegade, Cosmo."