After the first awed moment, there was an excited scramble after the bills.
Giles Habibula, stooping and snatching, fell against the tall man.
The stranger caught him and helped him back to his feet.
“Ah, thank you, sir!”
Small eyes glittering, he was avidly seizing and counting the returned money.
“Thank you.
Thank you generously, madam!”
He heaved a vast sigh of relief.
“Ah, it’s all here!
Thank you!”
He waddled triumphantly back to where his three companions were ostensibly watching another table.
Ignoring the peculiarly pale and sick-looking smile on the face of Gaspar Hannas, he dropped something into Jay Kalam’s palm.
“Ah, Jay,” he panted, “it cost me mortal peril—aye, and the last desperate exertion of my failing genius—but here are your suspect’s keys, and his reservation check.”
“Mortal peril?” echoed Gaspar Hannas, faintly.
“It cost me forty million dollars!”
The Commander studied the oblong yellow card.
“Charles Derrel,” he muttered.
“Marine biologist, from Venus.”
His dark eyes narrowed.
“It’s just a temporary check—‘original mislaid.’
And the initials—Charles Derrel and Chan Derron!”
Hal Samdu’s great fists clenched.
“Aye, Jay!” he whispered.
“Shall we arrest him now?”
“Not yet,” said the Commander.
“Wait for me here.”
He walked quickly to the table, and touched the tall man’s arm.
The stranger turned very quickly to meet him.
And the quickly checked movement of his arm told the Commander that some weapon hung ready beneath the green cloak.
“These were dropped when the money was being picked up, just now.”
Jay Kalam allowed a glimpse of the keys and the yellow card.
“If you can identify the check—”
The stranger stared through his dark glasses, speechless.
But the girl stepped forward.
Her gracious white arm slipped through the stranger’s and she gave Jay Kalam a smile that took his breath.
“Of course he can.”
Rich as a singer’s, her voice was quick and positive.
“Or I can identify him.
Sir, this is Dr. Charles Derrel.
Recently from Venus.
My fiance.”
“Thank you.”
With a sudden intense effort of memory, Jay Kalam studied the girl.
“Who, may I ask, are you?”
The proud, impersonal violet eyes met his.
“Vanya Eloyan.”
She spoke as if she were saying / am a princess.
“From Thule.”
The Commander bowed, and dropped the card and the ring of keys into the stranger’s powerful hand.
The girl smiled dazzling thanks, and then took her companion’s arm and turned him back to the table.