"Yes, of course, Lanny. You're doing your fur like Oscar. Forgive me. There's no doubt in mymind, Lanny, that we've seen a man speaking the honest truth. I know what the radicals and the quislings are saying about the king ... that he's lying in his teeth, that he's a base, grubby, weasel-p.u.s.s.ed liar, that he's an ill-shaven, mealymouthed, dirty-linen swine, that he's a low-down, dirty, no good, rotten son of a b.i.t.c.h. Well, these charges are, in my opinion at any rate, exaggerations. Looking at this man sitting there by the snug palace fireplace, I was struck very forcibly with obvious honesty."

"Much the same impression I got, Sri."

"Certainly, Oscar ... oops, Lanny. Your fur-do keeps throwing me. Lanny, I think we can put to rest the rumors and lies which have been circulating."

"Thank you, Sri."

"Thank you, Lanny ... oops I mean ... no, it is Lanny, isn't it?"

"Jack, I really ought to watch the rest of the news," the princess whispered in his ear while she clung tightly to him. "You don't realize the responsibilities which weigh me down."

Summer stroked her hair.

"Oh, Jack, would that I were not born to rule."

"You can abdicate for an hour or so."

"Yes ... yes, I suppose so."

"... To the crime front. One of the most sensational arrests in the recent history of apprehension was made last night by the determined Territorial Police. And so it was that the ruthless Scarlet Angel, queen of the highwaymen, was trapped as she lay in the arms of her vicious paramour...."

"We can turn this off now," murmured Joline as she reached toward the floating set. Her fingers did not quite make it to the switch.

"... Here we see him, cowering as he is brought into the Worst Offenders Prison to begin his inevitable trip to the gallows. Notice he has the typical dark look and bald head of many habitual crimin-"

The princess succeeded in turning the set off. "Now, then, Jack."

"Wait now." He climbed off the naked girl to flick the TV on again.

"... Known far and wide, hither and yon, as the Bald a.s.sa.s.sin, his career as a highwayman has come to its inevitable end."

"Palma!" Summer recognized his partner on the screen.

Joline asked, "Who's Palma?"

"He's not a highwayman."

CHAPTER 21.

"Those disreputable boots are going to do permanent harm to your feet," said Dr. Roarer, pointing with his free green hand They form part of my disguise." Summer, wearing purple-tinted spectacles, a straw-colored beard, and a two-piece dung-collector's suit, was being guided by the lizard podiatrist along a quirky lane.

It was afternoon, but little sunlight made its way down through the overhanging rooftops and lines of drying clothes. Coming toward them down the alley was a funeral procession, all en foot Four black-clad birdmen carried a wide wooden coffin on their shoulders, and six a.s.sorted mourners followed in single file.

Dr. Roarer tipped his orange stovepipe hat. "My sympathies," he said. "I warned him about his feet, but he paid me no heed."

"Stand aside, you crusty mountebank," said the left front pallbearer.

"Ain't a he anyhow, it's our poor departed grandmother we're toting," said the right rear.

"Male or female, sir, the eternal verity applies- healthy feet mean a long life."

"Gram was ninety-six when she crossed over, and she had a wooden leg," left front told him."Now out of the way."

Summer pulled the doctor to the side of the lane, "I've got an appointment to keep."

"After carrying that load all the way to the Paupers' Memorial Cemetery," Dr. Roarer called after the receding procession, "your own feet will be in need of attention. Today's special is Dr. Roarer's Foot Nostrum at four bottles for a Waldo."

The mourners shuffled on.

"This is the intersection we want up ahead, isn't it?" Summer asked as he and the doctor neared the corner.

"Let me see." From out of his hat Dr. Roarer took a pair of gla.s.ses. Adjusting them on his green nose, he said, "Butcher's Lane and Pesthouse Place. Right you are."

Summer adjusted the sign hanging around his neck and took a position in front of the wall of a day-old offal shop. The dangling sign announced: Stricken! Blind in the Prime of Life!! It Could Happen to YOU!! Please Give from the Heart!!

Dr. Roarer set his flowered carpetbag gently on the cracked pavement. "Might as well do a little real business while providing you with a bit of protective coloration," he said while extracting a bottle of blue liquid from the bag. "You there, sir, there's still time to save the other one."

The pegleg bargeman ignored him, and went staggering on down the lane.

"Ah, here's a likely mark," said Dr. Roarer. "Crawling along on his hands and knees, a sure sign of foot trouble."

The young man was wearing a recently shredded two-piece business suit His face was scribbled with gashes, cuts, and bruises. "... Waylaid ..." he muttered. " ... Fallen upon by footpads ..."

Summer ran over to him. "Are you from Kaminsky, Kaminsky and Warren?"

"Indeed I am, sir," the battered young man said with a groan. "I'm Josiah Ramoz ... my card ..."

His hand went clean through the remains of his coat and out again, "They seem to have stolen my pocket."

Summer helped him over against the offal shop and propped him up. "Somebody jumped you, huh?"

"Seven of them," replied the young attorney, "a company of thugs and footpads, consisting of three birdmen, two-"

"How did you wend your way here, sir, by which route?" Dr. Roarer uncapped the bottle of elixir.

"Why, the shortest way to my rendezvous with Mr. Slimmer seemed to be by way of Footpad Alley and then straight down Thug Lane."

"Well, sir, there's your explanation for what's befallen you. Footpad Alley is infested with footpads, hence the name."

"I a.s.sumed the name was a quaint throwback to an-"

"Did Mulligan Starbuck fill you in on the situation?"

The lawyer managed to straighten up some. "He is not the actual Mulligan Starbuck," he said. "I wouldn't want to say he is. This imitation Starbuck heir did, however, explain most of the circ.u.mstances of the problem to me. Of course I will maintain in court, unless directly questioned on the matter, that a hunted fugitive such as he never snaked in to see me at all."

"It seemed to me he'd have a better chance of reaching you than I would," said Summer. "I remembered your office had handled some legal work for Coult."

"Yes, we have served the Coult organization on several occasions. I have taken the liberty ...

what are you doing?"

Dr. Roarer had poured some thick pinkish elixir onto his hand and was nibbing it on Ramoz's cuts. This would work more effectively if applied directly to your feet, but it's also wonderful for cuts, sc.r.a.pes, and over a hundred other household ills."

"I don't have a household ill. Seven footpads-"

"The case," cut in Summer. "Let's continue with that."

"I have taken the liberty of contacting the Coult organization on Barnum, and Mr. Coult himselfhas given us carte blanche as far as expenses. He asked, by the way, how the article was-"

"What can you do for me and Palma?"

"Let me first ... What's in that syrup? My head stings."

"All natural ingredients. Here, peruse the label, which I myself-"

"The case," reiterated Summer.

"Let me see if I have all the elements correctly," said the lawyer. "You, Mr. Summer, are an escaped lunatic and your partner, Mr. Palma, is a condemned highwayman who is to be executed tomorrow at noon. Is that about it?"

"Basically, yeah."

"Possibly we can get you a hearing before the Royal Lunacy Commission," said young Ramoz.

"You look to me to be relatively sane. Let me say, by the way, that I am sorry to find you blind."

"I'm not blind, this is a disguise." He located an un-bruised stretch of the lawyer's arm and gripped it "I'm not crazy at all. I was railroaded into St. Charlie's because I'm digging into the king's career as a murderer of old ladies."

"Oh, I'm glad we can have this chance to talk before we go before the commission, Mr. Summer.

Almost makes the beating and robbing worthwhile. See, you don't want to say what you just said to me before the-"

"It's true. You live full time on this G.o.dd.a.m.n planet, you must know how the political setup works."

"Yes, I've heard some of the allegations you-"

"OK, forget about me for now. We have to stop them from hanging Palma tomorrow."

"Hanging, drawing and quartering, and stepping on his brains is the actual sentence."

"Yeah, I want to stop it all."

"Let me explain to you that under the present laws in Laranja East there are only two ways to save a man from the gallows." He held up his hand and noticed one of his fingernails was split and paused to suck at it. "One, a Royal Pardon from the king. Two, a Will of G.o.d Reprieve from the Territorial Pope."

"The pope sounds like our best bet. How soon can we see him?"

"We can't. He's in St. Charlie's," replied the lawyer. "Therefore, in actuality, our only hope is the king."

"Huh," said Summer, mostly to himself.

"I think I had best explain, Mr. Summer, that the earliest possible appointment I can probably get with the Screening Committee which pa.s.ses on who shall see the king would be next month sometime.

This leads me to conclude-"

"Princess Joline will have to do it," decided Summer.

"The princess cannot legally-"

"She can persuade her father; she'll have to."

"She's nearly as difficult to see as-"

"I'll take care of contacting her." The blond princess was waiting for him back at the den of thieves. "Thank you for your time and trouble. Dr. Roarer will see you safely out of Suicide Slum."

The lawyer eyed the foot specialist "I'd rather risk it on my own," he said.

Princess Joline was sitting, in a sort of discarded rag-doll position, in the wood and leather chair in the corner of Summer's room. The TV-ball floated, blank and silent, near her lovely head. Her eyes were moist, red rimmed. "Actually it's all for the best," she said.

"Although..."

Summer continued across the room. "Listen, Joline, there's only one way to get Palma free."

"Though I am in an awkward position as to-"

"The lawyers can't do a d.a.m.n thing, or won't So you've got to help."

"To hear it like this on television." The princess began sniffing, putting one slender finger under her nose.

"So I want you to go home," said Summer, stopping before her. "Go to the palace, talk to yourfather, convince him he's going to be in a h.e.l.l of a lot of trouble all over the universe if he allows Palma to be executed. If we had more time I could get Coult to put pressure on various-"

"Or don't know whether to be heartbroken or glad really."

"You tell your father that Coult will fix it so Laranja East never gets another drop of aid from Barnum and he'll get a bad press on every planet in the Barnum System. Then you tell him he's got to issue a Royal Pardon for Palma, and the girl."

The girl took hold of one of his hands in both of hers. "You don't understand what I've been telling you?"

"I guess I wasn't paying enough attention. What?"

"My father's found out about my part in the escape of you and Dr. Ferrier and the rest," Joline said. "He was just on television talking about it. He even threw my portrait, the one done by Van Horn, into the fireplace."

"OK, he's angry, but you still can-"

"It's gone beyond anger, Jack," she said. "He's publicly disowned me."