managed to progress as far as the bow and arrow. The butler was
probably a mixture of half a dozen primitive races; he was wearing one
of his late master's evening suits, a bright mellow-pink, which was
distinctly unflattering to his complexion.

The sound-pickup was too far away to give him what they were saying,
but the butler and maid were waving their arms and protesting
vehemently. One of the detectives took the woman by the arm; she
jerked it loose and aimed a backhand slap at him. He blocked it on his
forearm. Immediately, the girl in black turned and said something to
her, and she subsided. Vall said, into the box:

"Barth, have the girl in the black cloak brought down to Number Four
Interview Room. Put the other two in separate detention cubicles;
we'll talk to them later." He broke the connection and got to his
feet. "Come on, Dalla. I want you to help me with the girl."

"Just try and stop me," Dalla told him. "Any interviews you have with
that little item, I want to sit in on."

* * * * *

The Proletarian girl, still guarded by a detective, had already been
placed in the interview room. The detective nodded to Vall, tried to
suppress a grin when he saw Dalla behind him, and went out. Vall saw
his wife and the prisoner seated, and produced his cigarette case,
handing it around.

"You're Zinganna; you're of the household of Councilman Salgath Trod,
aren't you?" he asked.