"You're crazy, young man," the Commissioner burst out as he caught his breath. "If this is a joke, it's in remarkably poor taste."
"It's no joke." Cosmo's eyes hardened.
"You lying rogue," Bemmelman shouted. "This has gone far enough. There's your Renegade, Commissioner."
"Keep him quiet, Big Unse," said Cosmo softly, "until I finish. He can talk his head off then."
Big Unse doubled his fist, shook it in Bemmelman's face. The planter subsided, but a cunning gleam winked in his little brown eyes.
The Commissioner drew a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed at his forehead. He sank into a chair with a groan. "Talk fast, young man," he said. "And it had better be good." He eyed Cosmo with obvious distrust.
Cosmo took a moisture-proof cigarette case from his pocket, snapped it open. "I realize, Commissioner, this must be quite a shock. Bemmelman's been powerful in politics. He has allies in high places. But when they learn he's the Renegade, they'll be the first to disown him." He took a cigarette out of the case, eyed it critically, put it back. "Even rats," he added, glancing up at the Commissioner, "have sense enough to leave a sinking ship."
"Um," said the Commissioner. He looked discomfited, shot a sly glance at the manacled planter.
Bemmelman started to roar a protest, but Big Unse grinned, shook his hammer-like fist in his face.
"I'd better sketch in his background," said Cosmo judicially. "He was an organic chemist on Earth, but got involved in a forgery case. He next showed up smuggling Jovian primitives to Venus. The T.I.S. got on his trail, but they were never able to pin anything on him."