"Now that you've got it," said the Duchess, "have you figured how you're going to get out with it? We've got as much chance of returning the way we came as of burrowing through the walls. That slave barracks won't quiet down for a week."
He appeared crestfallen, then his eyes lit on his latest victim. He brightened. "Aren't the only men in Behrl who wear civilian clothes agents of the Venusian Export Lines, and didn't you say they had their headquarters upstairs?"
The Duchess nodded.
He began to strip the clothes from their second victim.
"We'll walk out the front door," he said grimly.
"You're a resourceful rogue," the Duchess admitted with admiration.
In a matter of minutes, he had changed clothes. Hastily, he bundled up the green suit, wrapped it in a piece of packing paper. "Let's get out of here."
"What about these?" The Duchess indicated the bodies on the floor.
"Leave them there. They don't know what hit them."
They re-entered the lift, got off on the street floor. Six guards were loafing in the foyer. One of them winked when he saw the slave girl demurely following the young man out of the elevator.