"... Experts predict that the first assassin will have a seventy-thirty chance of destroying Quizmaster Cartwright and winning the prize put up by Reese Verrick, the previous Quizmaster. If the first assassin fails, the betting is sixty-forty on the second. Cartwright will have better control over his army and telepathic Corps after the initial two days. For the assassin, speed rather than form will count in the opening phase. During the last lap the situation will be tight because..."

Laura leaned contentedly back, a cigarette between her fingers, and smiled at Benteley.

"Think you'll move your things here to Chemie? You could stay with us until you find a decent place."

Al picked a date from a bowl. He ate it slowly. "Too sweet. What planet's it from? Venus? It tastes like one of those pulpy Venusian fruits."

"It's from Asia Minor," Laura said.

"Here on Earth? Who muted it?"

"Nobody; it's a natural fruit. From a palm tree."

Benteley got slowly to his feet. "Laura, I have to get going."

Al rose in amazement. "Why?"

"I have to collect my things from Oiseau-Lyre."

Al thumped him on the shoulder. "You're one of Verrick's serfs now; give the Hill traffic office a call and they'll arrange it."

"I'd rather do it myself," Benteley said.

"Why?" Laura asked, surprised.

"Less things get broken," Benteley evaded.

Al went on: "You'd better get your stuff here as soon as possible. Sometimes Verrick wants a person quickly, and when he wants you quickly———"

"The hell with Verrick!" Benteley snapped.

Their shocked looks followed him as he moved from the table.