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Kirdy asked a sarcastic question: "Is that an official order?"

"Not at all," said Glawen.

"I would like to hear your appraisal of the case as it now stands."

"Why not?" asked Kirdy.

"Talk is cheap."

The two went into the lounge and took seats in deep leather chairs before a fireplace, and were served ale of good quality in tall glass beakers.

"So then," said Glawen.

"Who is guilty and who is innocent? Have you formed any opinions?"

"First of all, I wonder why you want to go out to Pogan's Point. You have learned who distributed the brochures."

"So far, so good," said Glawen.

"But I have an uncomfortable feeling that we have only seen the tip of the iceberg. For instance, Sibil wore a tattoo on her forehead."

"What of that? I've heard of ladies with port and starboard running lights tattooed on their bottoms."

"No matter. These women with tattooed foreheads are mysterious."

"There are more than one?"

"Yes. One such woman had strange dealings with Chilke.

Something is going on which neither he nor I understand.

Namour may be involved, and I'd like to find out why, how, when and where."

"Bah," muttered Kirdy.

"The folk at Pogan's Point don't know Namour."

"Probably not. I can't so much as guess what they know--but I want to find out. And tomorrow is an excellent opportunity."

"We could put the time to better use," grumbled Kirdy.

"How?"

"By visiting Diamonte and the Mummers, of course!"

Glawen said in a strained voice: "I've already explained three times and given three sets of explicit orders that I don't want you to visit the Mummers. You know my reasons.

Don't you remember?"

"I remember your words, but they carry no great conviction."

"In that case, why should I trouble to explain anything to you? Now, for possibly the fourth and certainly the last time, I issue these clear, definite and direct orders: Do not communicate with the Mummers! Do not go near them! Do not speak to, listen to, look at, signal to, send messages to the Mummers, their representatives or any members of their entourage. Do not attend any performances. In short, have nothing whatever to do with the Mummers! Have I forgotten anything? If so, include it as part of the orders.

I can't be any more definite. Am I correct in this?"

"Eh? Yes indeed. I'll have more of this excellent ale."

"Tomorrow," said Glawen, "I will be leaving early for Pogan's Point. You must sit in the lobby or in your room, but make sure the

desk clerk knows where you are. If I am not back tomorrow evening, communicate with the IPCC. Did you hear me?"

Kirdy smiled: a curious smile, thought Glawen, full of poise and wisdom.

"I heard your words. I understand them at all levels of my mind."

"Then I will say no more. I am going out now to a bookshop and buy some books, so that I may learn something about the Zubenites. Either come with me, or wait here or go up to your room and sleep."

"I'll come with you," said Kirdy.

CHAPTER 8

Glawen arrived early at the Allen Dance and Arts Travel Salon, to find the eastbound omnibus already on hand and apparently packed to capacity, with rows of pallid big-eyed faces peering from the windows. Glawen surveyed the scene with displeasure. This bus and its contents in no respect resembled the bus of the travel poster. Glawen congratulated himself on his foresight in securing a reserved seat, inasmuch as the bus seemed not only loaded but overloaded.

There was no help for it, he thought, and boarded the bus by the entry at the front end. For a moment he stood looking down the ranks of passengers, all dressed alike in gowns of first and all burdened with parcels.

The driver was not accustomed to such indecision; he held out his hand and spoke crisply: "Give me your ticket, if you please. That is the rule, if you want to ride. If you do not, please descend from the bus."

"I definitely want to ride," said Glawen.

Are sens

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