“Pardon, I am a newcomer.” He said it stupidly, wearing an expression of slight dopiness. “I arrived from Diracta a few days ago.”

“You are lost, hi?”

“No, officer, I am embarrassed.” He fumbled in a pocket, produced his identity-card, offered it for inspection. His leg muscles were tensed in readiness for swift and effective flight as he went on, “A Pertanian friend tells me that my card is wrong because it must now bear a picture of my nude body. This friend is a persistent prankster. I do not know whether he is to be believed.”

Frowning. the policeman examined the card’s face, He turned it over, studied its back. Then he returned it to Mowry.

“This card is quite in order. Your friend is a liar. There is no such silly regulation. He would be wise to keep his mouth shut.” The frown grew deeper. “If he does not he will someday regret it. The Kaitempi are rough with those who spread false rumours.”

“Yes, officer,” said Mowry, vastly relieved but looking suitably frightened. “I shall warn him not to be a fool. May you live long!”

“Live long!” said the policeman, curtly.

Hurrah! He went back to the hotel, walked in as though he owned it, said to the clerk, “I wish a room with bath for ten days.”

“Your instrument of identity?”

He passed the card across.

The clerk wrote down its details, handed it back, reversed the register on the counter and pointed to a line. “Sign here.”

On taking the room his first act was to have a welcome wash. Then he reviewed his position.