Dudley turned his back on the crushed body, valiantly trying not to be sick. "Is she dead?"
"They don't come any deader," Bakr said grimly. "Look - I'll have to get to Eleanor right away. Hide her somewhere."
"Eleanor?"
"Leave it to me. I'll take care of it."
He pushed through the gathering crowd of spectators and broke into a run. Dudley leaned against the car and miserably contemplated the still form that lay beneath its ponderous wheels.
A young doctor arrived from somewhere. With the help of the spectators he pulled the body from under the 'car, clucked his tongue sadly, and sacrificed his white robe to cover the dead woman. Three police officers trotted up looking ridiculously gay in their checkered robes. One took charge of the situation and sent the other two hurrying off on urgent errands. He accepted Dudley's identification and recorded the information on a report form. The crowd of spectators continued to grow. Dudley searched the circle of faces for indications of the indignation he expected, and to his intense surprise he found them regarding him with polite sympathy.
The police officer patted him on the shoulder. "The judge should be here soon."
"Judge?" Dudley exclaimed.
"Why don't you wait in the 'car?"
Dudley swallowed his protest and staggered to the 'car. His knees had been on the verge of collapse since he first saw the woman's body. He eased himself into the rear seat and waited, and soon the woman's husband appeared, escorted by a police officer, and the judge arrived from the opposite direction in a flurry of scarlet robes. The husband, a sturdy, honest-looking young man in a tradesman's robe, bent resignedly over his dead wife and then quietly stepped aside. The judge, a robust old man with formidably sagging jowls, studied Dudley's papers with a scowl.
"An Alien! Now we shall have all manner of tiresome complications. Have you a wife, Alien Dudley?"
"Certainly," Dudley said.
"You have a wife but no manners at all!" the judge snapped.
"You must stand before the judge," the police officer whispered.
Dudley scrambled from the car and faced the judge.
"And you must say, 'Your Wisdom,' when you answer," the police officer whispered.
"Now, then," the judge said. "It would be entirely too much to expect that your wife would be here on Maylor. Where is she?"
"Here on Maylor," Dudley said, belatedly remembering to add, "Your Wisdom."
"Excellent!" The judge's glum expression vanished. He flashed a plump smile at Dudley and examined the papers again. "Then we can settle this matter before lunch. Is your wife at this address?"
"She was there when I left this morning, Your Wisdom."
"Excellent!"
"Do you wish her to be brought here, Your Wisdom?" the police officer asked.
"We shall go there. At once."
"In the violator's 'car, Your Wisdom?"
"Of course. Otherwise, I shall be late for lunch."
Dudley rode in the rear seat with the bereaved husband; the judge rode in front beside the police officer, who drove. Dudley uneasily watched the husband, who had not spoken. If the young man was not dazed by shock, his composure was truly heroic.
Dudley turned away and sought to convince himself that he had nothing to worry about. He had insurance - very good insurance. He said, "Your Wisdom?"
The judge turned.
"I have insurance, Your Wisdom."
The judge considered this. "What is insurance?" he asked. "It's - well - it's insurance, you see, and when there's an accident -" He broke off lamely. The judge had returned his attention to the clutter of traffic that surrounded them. They continued the trip in silence.
The police officer parked the 'car a short distance from the apartment entrance, and they moved toward it in single file, Dudley making a cautious circuit of the area beneath an ascending load of brick. The judge stoically marched straight ahead.
They climbed the stairs. Dudley opened the door of the apartment - which, like his office, had no lock - and called, "Eleanor!"
There was no answer. The apartment was empty. Dudley examined the luggage and noted that a suitcase was missing.
"She isn't here, Your Wisdom," he told the judge.
"Indeed. She is visiting a neighbor, perhaps? Or gone purchasing?"
"I guess she's just - gone. She took a suitcase."
"Indeed." The judge seated himself on the sofa and looked at Dudley severely. "It seems that I shall after all be late for lunch." He nodded at the police officer. "You will make inquiries. At once."
"Yes, Your Wisdom."
"And you." The judge pointed at Dudley. "I warn you. If this case is not settled promptly, I intend to charge my maximum fee."
"I don't mind paying your maximum fee, Your Wisdom," Dudley said. "I don't really see what Eleanor has to do with this. After all, I do have insurance."
"Eleanor is your wife's name? She has everything to do with it. On this world we follow the Rule of Justice."
"But my insurance -"
"You have deprived this man of his wife. You must give him your wife. If he is willing to accept her, that is. It is only simple justice."
"Eleanor might not consent to that," Dudley protested.
"She has no choice in the matter."
"But my insurance -"
"What is this insurance?"
"It will pay him a cash settlement for his loss, Your Wisdom."
"Cash!" the judge screamed. "You would substitute money for justice? What barbarous customs you Aliens have!"
The return of the police officer saved the judge from the attack of apoplexy that seemed imminent. The two conferred in whispers, and the judge's expression gradually changed from one of anger to amazement. "A conspiracy?" he demanded.
"It would appear so, Your Wisdom."
"But the Alien Dudley could not have warned his wife. He did not even know our Rule of Justice."
"The fact remains, Your Wisdom -"
"True. The fact remains. And if the Alien Dudley is involved in the conspiracy, I shall be harsh with him. What are we to do with him in the meantime, if I am not to miss my lunch altogether?"
"I don't know, Your Wisdom."
"You should know. Justice is your profession, too. We must incarcerate him. That is the Rule - incarceration after the event and before the judgment. The question is where? In all of my judicial experience such a thing has never happened. Do you have any knowledge of a judge incarcerating a violator?"
"No, Your Wisdom."
"We once had special places of incarceration, but because of our present commendable efficiency in applying the Rule of Justice, they are no longer needed. Several legal histories mention them. They don't assist us in the present dilemma, however. I leave the entire problem in your hands, officer. Incarcerate the violator!"
"Yes, Your Wisdom."
"And continue your search for the wife, of course. For the next three hours I shall be at lunch."
After a lengthy conference with his colleagues, the police officer decided to incarcerate Dudley in his own apartment. The only other place available, it seemed, was his own home, and he saw no reason to take a violator into his home when the violator had a home of his own to be incarcerated in.
"You must not leave until the judge orders your release," the police officer said. He left, taking the bereaved husband with him, and Dudley found himself officially incarcerated by an unlocked door. The remainder of the day he paced the small apartment, counted the bricks that were hoisted past his window, cursed Hamal Bakr's thoughtless blundering, and, when he could force himself to concentrate, gave fleeting thought to the insurance problem.
What Maylor needed, he decided, was an entirely different concept of the insurance claim settlement: a type of barter arrangement where the insurance company restored a loss without reference to money. It would create endless complications, and it would require the training of an entirely new breed of claims adjustor, but he thought he could, given sufficient time, develop claim procedures that would meet the requirements of Maylor's strange Rule of Justice.