Almost, Grimes did not hear the sharp plop. plop.

Almost he did not hear it, but he felt the metal strands writhing about his bare skin, biting into his limbs, binding himself and Marlene together in a ghastly parody, an obscene exhibition of physical love.

Into his limited range of vision, still further obscured by the tangle of the girl's blonde hair, stepped de Messigny. In his hand he held one of the bell-mouthed net-throwing pistols.

"A pretty picture!" he sneered. "A very pretty picture." In spite of the deliberate coldness of his voice, it was obvious that he was struggling to contain his fury. "As for you, Marlene, you s.l.u.t! An affair with one of us I could have tolerated, but for you to give yourself to a lowbred outworlder!"

Her voice, in reply, was m.u.f.fled. Grimes could feel her lips moving against his face. "I'm not property, Henri. I'm not your your property." property."

"I would not want you now, you b.i.t.c.h."

Grimes saw that the man had pulled a knife from the sheath at his belt. He struggled to get his mouth clear, after an effort was able to mumble, "Put that thing away."

"Not yet, Mr. Grimes. Not yet."

"But this is not Marlene's fault, de Messigny."

"I have come here neither as judge nor as executioner, Mr. Grimes, although Marlene will be most appropriately punished for what she she has done. I have come, only to sacrifice Lobenga's white goat, and the white goat is has done. I have come, only to sacrifice Lobenga's white goat, and the white goat is you. you."

Grimes waited for the descent of the blade. Stab or slash, what did it matter? Although a stab might be faster. And then de Messigny uttered a choking cry, seemed to be trying to contort himself so that he could strike with the blade at something behind him. Wound tightly about his neck there was a thin, metal tentacle. He was jerked out of sight.

Grimes heard the threshing sounds of the Comte's struggles slowly diminish. They finally ceased.

"The miniwagon..." whispered Marlene, and only a carryall but it has intelligence of sorts, and it's supposed to protect its mistress to the best of its ability. But it's slow. It was almost too slow..."

"It...it got here in time."

"Only...just."

She was close to him, even closer then she had been before de Messigny cast his net. Suddenly he was acutely conscious of her, all of her. And he had some freedom, not much, but a little, enough.

"Can you....?" she murmured. Then, "After all, as the old saying has it, we might as well be hung for sheep as lambs..."

"I can..." he muttered.

He did.

And then, only then, did Marlene give careful orders to the dim-witted machine, telling it to pick up the pistol with its tentacle, telling it how to set the weapon so that a pulse of radiation would cause the net to loose its hold. Neither of them could see what was happening, and Grimes feared that the stupid thing would well-meaningly pick up and fire the Minetti at them.

But it did not, and each of them felt a brief tingling sensation, and then they were free. Marlene wept again over her slaughtered dogs, stared at the purple-faced, contorted body of de Messigny without expression. She resumed her clothing. Grimes resumed his.

They clambered into the miniwagon, let it carry them in silence back to the Castle.

Chapter 26.

They were waiting for Grimes and Marlene in the castle courtyard-Lobenga, the Lady Eulalia, and the d.u.c.h.ess of Leckhampton. They were an oddly a.s.sorted trio: the Negro in his leopard skin, with a necklace of bones (animal? human?) and with a hide bag, containing who knew what disgusting relics slung at his waist; his wife robed in spotless white, with a gold circlet about her dark hair; the

d.u.c.h.ess in gaudy finery, flounced skirt boldly striped in black and scarlet, sequined lemon-yellow blouse, a blue, polka dotted kerchief as a head covering. The clay pipe that she was smoking with obvious enjoyment should have been incongruous, but it suited her,;^ Before them was a large box, a three dimensional viewing screen. To one side was the grim effigy of Baron Samedi, the wooden cross in its scarecrow clothing. It should have looked absurd in broad daylight, in these surroundings, but it did not.

Witch doctor, priestess and fortune teller...thought Grimes bewilderedly.

"What is this?" demanded Marlene. "What are you doing here?"

"We had to come outside, Princess," Lobenga told her. "There is magic soaked into the very stones of your castle, but it is the wrong sort of magic."

"Magic!" her voice was contemptuous. "That?" She gestured to the extension of the Monitor, in the screen of which the dead man, the dead dogs and the crumpled wreckage of the rogue were still visible. "Or that? that?" Her arm pointed rigidly at the clothed cross.

"Or both? "asked the d.u.c.h.ess quietly.

"You watched?"

"We watched," confirmed Lobenga.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"And you did nothing to help?"

"It was all in the cards," said the d.u.c.h.ess.

"And you watched, everything. And you felt a vicarious thrill, just as you do at those famous masked b.a.l.l.s of yours, Your Grace. There is nothing more despicable than a voyeur, voyeur, especially one who spies upon her friends." especially one who spies upon her friends."

"We were obliged to watch," said Lobenga.

"By whom? By what?"

"The bones were cast," almost sang Eulalia, "the cards were read. But still there was the possibility of the unforeseen, the unforeseeable, some malign malfunction of the plan. We had to be ready to intervene."

"There were quite a few times when you could have intervened," growled the s.p.a.ceman. "When you should should have intervened." have intervened."

"No," said Lobenga. "No, Mr. Grimes. The entire operation went as planned."

"What a world!" snarled the Lieutenant. "What a b.l.o.o.d.y world! I'm sorry, Marlene, but I can't stay in this castle a second longer. I don't like your friends. Call me a taxi, or whatever you do on this planet, so that I can get back to the ship. Tell that tin butler of yours to pack my bags."

"John!"

"I mean it, Marlene."

"Let him go," said Eulalia. "He has played his part."

"As I have," whispered the princess.

"Yes."

"As Henri did."

"Yes."

She flared, "What sort of monsters are you? "

"Not monsters, Marlene," said Lobenga gently. "Just servants of a higher power."

"Of the Monitor?" she sneered. "Or of Baron Samedi?"

"Or both?" asked Eulalia.

"Things went a little too far," said the d.u.c.h.ess.

"You mean Henri's death?" queried Marlene. "But somebody had to die."

"I do not mean Henri's death. I mean what happened afterwards. But it does not matter. After all, the English aristocracy has always welcomed an occasional infusion of fresh blood. And, my dear, in a way the child, if there is one, will be Henri's."

"That," said Marlene, her voice expressionless, "is a comforting thought."

"I'm glad that you see it that way." The d.u.c.h.ess sucked on her pipe, blew out a cloud of smoke that was acrid rather than fragrant. "You know, my dear, the cards were really uncanny. The Hanged Man kept turning up." For Grimes' benefit she explained, "That is one of the cards of ill-omen in the Tarot pack." She went on, "Of course, we were expecting a death, a violent death, but not in so literal a manner."

"Must we go into all this, Honoria?" asked Marlene.

"If you would rather not, my dear, we will not. But..."

"But what?"

"Poor Henri was addicted to the use of archaic slang but, oddly enough, only when he was talking to me. Just before he went out to play Vulcan to your Venus and Mars he said that he was going to fix your wagon." She deliberately took her time refilling and relighting her short pipe. "But your wagon fixed him."

"Let us leave these ghouls," said Marlene disgustedly. Grimes fell rather than jumped out of the miniwagon, then helped the girl to the ground. Together they walked into the castle.

"Yes, John," said Marlene. "It is better that return to your ship. You have played your part, more than your part."

Grimes looked at the girl's grave face. There was nothing in it for him any more. He looked past her to the shining weapons incongruously displayed on the wall of her boudoir. He thought, I I know more about guns than women. know more about guns than women.

He said, "I'm sorry it happened."

"Don't be a liar, John. You wanted me from the very first moment that you saw me, and you finally got me."

"Are you sorry it happened?"

For the first time since their return to the castle, she showed signs of emotion.

"That is a hard question to answer, John. But, no, I am not sorry that it happened. I am not even sorry that it happened the way that it did. What I am sorry about is the humiliation. And, of course, Henri's death." Her features suddenly contorted into a vicious mask. "But he deserved it!"

"And somebody, as everybody here has been telling me, had to die."

"And better, I suppose, one of us than one of you. It keeps it all in the family, doesn't it? Very neat, very tidy." There were the beginnings of hysteria in her voice.

"Marlene!"

"No. Don't touch me!" Don't touch me!"

"All right. But I thought..."

"Don't think. It's dangerous."

"Marlene, what about the child, if there is one?"

"What about it?"

"Well...it could be...embarra.s.sing. Will you marry me?"

She laughed then but it was not hysterical laughter. It was not altogether contemptuous. "Oh, John, John...The perfect petty bourgeois to the very last. Offering to make an honest woman of me, me, me, and on a world which can boast the finest medical brains in the Galaxy. Not that our physicians have had much practice in terminating pregnancies. Marry and on a world which can boast the finest medical brains in the Galaxy. Not that our physicians have had much practice in terminating pregnancies. Marry you, you, John, a penniless Survey Service Lieutenant? Oh; John, a penniless Survey Service Lieutenant? Oh; I appreciate it, appreciate the offer, but it just wouldn't work out. You aren't our sort of people and we aren't yours. I'd sooner have married Henri, and he asked me often enough, with all his faults." I appreciate it, appreciate the offer, but it just wouldn't work out. You aren't our sort of people and we aren't yours. I'd sooner have married Henri, and he asked me often enough, with all his faults."

"We could marry," he pressed doggedly, "and then divorce."

"No. This is El Dorado, not some lower middle-cla.s.s slum of a planet. And furthermore, John, I shall be a heroine. I shall go down in history. The first woman to conceive on this world."

"You don't know that you have."

"But I do. I...I felt it."

He got slowly to his feet. "I'll see if Karl has packed my bags."

She said, "You don't have to go."

He asked, "Do you want me to?"

Her expression softened almost imperceptibly. "What if I told you that Lobenga, Eulalia and the d.u.c.h.ess have already left the castle? They have done what they had to do."

"And have they? Left, I mean."

"Yes."

He felt the weakening of his resolution. Those other guests had witnessed what had happened between Marlene and himself but, as servants of the Monitor, there was much that they must have witnessed. Now that he would no longer be obliged to meet them socially...

"You will stay?" she asked.

"Why?" he queried bluntly.

"Because..."

"Because what?"

"Because I want to be sure."