Mason shuddered. "I'm not through with this one," he said.
"Slow, eh? Drink it down!"
Obediently Mason lifted the drink to his lips, took another shallow sip, winced as the ghastly stuff travelled down his gullet. Maybe gruuna was champagne to these evil-smelling so-and-sos, but it was no drink for an Earthman.
And the telepath had arrived at the dungeon. Before long they'd know everything.
He squinted around the edge of the bowl, eyeing the big Mordargan speculatively. Gruuna was potent stuff, he reflected; what would be the effect if I hurled a bowlful of it into the Mordargan's eyes?
It was worth a try. In one quick motion he lowered the bowl from his mouth, heaved its contents upward into the alien's face and started to run. He heard a roar of pain and anger from behind.
And the door slammed shut in his face.
He hadn't figured on that. The bartender probably could control the door manually from behind the bar and the moment Mason had broken away the signal to shut the door had been given.
He turned. The alien was rumbling toward him, wiping his eyes, bellowing in rage. Mason started to reach for his blaster but there was no time. The giant crashed into him.
He fought back gamely but the Mordargan was a foot taller and 125 pounds heavier, he didn't stand a chance. Fists slammed into his stomach and chest; he beat them off feebly, hardly able to see in the dimness of the bar.