a whisper mouthpiece; you can call out without worrying about your
message getting into Zinganna's subconscious. Well, I'll see you when
you're through; you bring Zinganna to Police Terminal; I'll probably
be there."

He went out, closing the door behind him, and went down the hall,
meeting the officer who had taken charge of the butler and housemaid.

"We're having trouble with them, sir," he said. "Hostile. Yelling
about their rights, and demanding to see a representative of
Proletarian Protective League."

Vall mentioned the Proletarian Protective League with unflattering
vulgarity.

"If they don't coöperate, drag them out and inject them and question
them anyhow," he said.

The detective-lieutenant looked worried. "We've been taking a pretty
high hand with them as it is," he protested. "It's safer to kill a
Citizen than bloody a Prole's nose; they have all sorts of laws to
protect them."

"There are all sorts of laws to protect the Paratime Secret," Vall
replied. "And I think there are one or two laws against murdering
members of the Executive Council. In case P.P.L. makes any trouble,
they aren't here; they have faithfully joined their beloved master in
his refuge on PolTerm. But one or both of them work for the
Organization."