"One thousand and one," shouted Norman triumphantly.
For a moment a hush gripped the audience, then the men roared with laughter. No one liked the Venusian Export Lines men, the pet of the Dohlmites.
"Going," chanted the auctioneer, "going. Gone! To the impetuous gentleman with the good right fist!"
For the life of him, Norman couldn't help swaggering a little as he went up to claim the girl.
The auctioneer tossed Jennifer her cape. She snatched it closely about herself, leaped down from the platform.
Norman counted out the bills. Jennifer, without glancing at her purchaser, walked swiftly ahead of him through the throng.
A pirate reached out, clapped him on the shoulder. "She's worth it," he chortled. "She's worth it." But Norman was being beset by doubts. He hadn't liked the steely glint in the girl's blue eyes. It foreboded trouble. Koal joined them chuckling, as they left the market place.
Once outside Jennifer stopped, swung on Norman. "All right," she said in a suppressed voice. "You've bought me. But you'll regret it as long as you live, you, you—renegade!"
Her tone brought him up short. "Of all the ungrateful wenches," he flared; "you are the prize. I joined the Dohlmites with the express purpose of rescuing you. I plank down one thousand notes cash to save you from what in the old days was considered a fate worse than death."
The girl's features registered surprise, incredulity, contrition. She started to say, "I didn't know," but Norman was thoroughly wound up.