"Never mind what you did to the guard—"
Suddenly the image of an officer strange to Mich'l stood in the room and saluted smartly.
"Has Captain Ilgen Mr. Lane Mollon's leave to stay?" he asked.
Mollon started forward, but before he could disclose his predicament Mich'l had sidled over to him and thrown one arm affectionately over his shoulder. In his hand, concealed by the rich folds of Lane's robe, Mich'l held his needle-ray, and it was pressed firmly against Lane's ribs.
"Mr. Mollon will be glad to hear you," Mich'l said smoothly.
e fancied that the eyes of the officer's image dilated slightly, but it lost none of its military rigor. But some explanation of his presence there in his still damp uniform must be given Ilgen, so he growled, in a voice that he tried to make a bit thick, as if he had chewed too much merclite:
"At ease, Captain. At ease! Damn it man, you don't have to be so damned military. You're among friends!" And he towseled Lane's dark hair affectionately.