"Of course, I realize that view is no longer entertained by the best informed people, but if you are so anxious for Vermeer to buy you, I'll go throw a bucket of water in his face and present you to him with my compliments."
Indignation swept away all other emotions from the girl's features. "I think you're horrible," she said and turned her back on him.
Koal suddenly shouted, "Look out, Norman!"
The young man swung around, saw Vermeer boring down on him. The agent had a poisoned needle gun in his hand. His temple was swollen, his eyes furious. Scarcely three steps away he swung the needle gun up.
Norman heard the weapon plop softly. At the same instant something swished between him and the murderous dart gun. Jennifer, he realized, had pulled the cloak from her bare shoulders, flung it between them.
He snatched the cloak, flipped it over Vermeer's head and shoulders. His rush bowled the man over backwards. The dart gun dropped to the pavement. Norman snatched it up just as Vermeer flung the cloak off his head, sprang to his feet.
"Kill him!" shouted Koal. "Quick!"
Vermeer's face blanched. He turned, began to run back toward the slave market, bent over, zig-zagging wildly.
Norman brought the dart gun up, then let it fall helplessly at his side.
"I can't do it," he said.