had his pistol half raised. Yirzol fell forward on the splash of blood
Sirzob had made, and the servants came forward and dragged his body
over with the others. It reminded Verkan Vail of some sort of
industrial assembly-line operation. He replaced the two expended
rounds in his magazine with fresh ones and slid the pistol back into
its holster. The two Assassins whose principals had been so
expeditiously massacred were beginning to count up their losses and
pay off the winners.

Klarnood, the President-General of the Society of Assassins, came
over, hooking fingers and clapping shoulders with Verkan Vall.

"Lord Virzal, I've seen quite a few duels, but nothing quite like
that," he said. "You should have been an Assassin!"

That was a considerable compliment. Verkan Vall thanked him modestly.

"I'd like to talk to you privately," the Assassin-President continued.
"I think it'll be worth your while if we have a few words together."

Verkan Vall nodded. "My suite is on the fifteenth floor above; will
that be all right?" He waited until the losers had finished settling
their bets, then motioned to his own pair of Assassins.

* * * * *

As they emerged into the Martian Room again, the manager was waiting;
he looked as though he were about to demand that Verkan Vall vacate
his suite. However, when he saw the arm of the President-General of
the Society of Assassins draped amicably over his guest's shoulder, he