“Hm. Pretty cocky, aren’t you? The records for such as you are down below, where you belong.”
“Not mine, I think.”
“So? And who the devil are you?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out. I’ve got a triangle branded on my right hip.”
“A what?”
“Triangle. Here—look!”
The amazing youngster had raised his jacket and was pulling at his shirt. 358 The sergeant stared at what was revealed, his eyes bulging as he looked.
“Lord!” he gasped, “a Van Dorn—in the gray!”
Quickly he turned to the radiovision and made rapid connection with several persons in turn—important ones, by the appearance of the features of each in the brilliant disc of the instrument.
Karl was confused by the sudden turn of things. The sergeant talked so rapidly he could not catch the sense of his words. And that name, Van Dorn, eluded him. He knew he had heard it before, in the little shop down there in Astor Way. But he could not place it. He wished fervently that he had paid more attention to the desires of old Rudolph; had studied more and read the books the old man had begged him to read. His new surroundings confused him, too, and he knew that he was the center of some great new excitement.