He said, "You're from the Foundation?"
"Yes. But I was born in Trantor. See it says that-"
"Ah-hah. It looks all right to me. You're named Arcadia, eh? That's a good Trantorian name. But where's your uncle? It says here you came in the company of Homir Munn, uncle."
"He's been arrested," said Arcadia, drearily.
"Arrested!" - from the two of them at once. "What for?" asked Mamma. "He did something?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. We were just on a visit. Uncle Homir had business with Lord Stettin but-" She needed no effort to act a shudder. It was there.
Pappa was impressed. "With Lord Stettin. Mm-m-m, your uncle must be a big man."
"I don't know what it was all about, but Lord Stettin wanted me to stay-" She was recalling the last words of Lady Callia, which had been acted out for her benefit. Since Callia, as she now knew, was an expert, the story could do for a second time.
She paused, and Mamma said interestedly, "And why you?"
"I'm not sure. He… he wanted to have dinner with me all alone, but I said no, because I wanted Uncle Homir along. He looked at me funny and kept holding my shoulder."
Pappa's mouth was a little open, but Mamma was suddenly red and angry. "How old are you, Arcadia?"
"Fourteen and a half, almost."
Mamma drew a sharp breath and said, "That such people should be let live. The dogs in the streets are better. You're running from him, dear, is not?"
Arcadia nodded.
Mamma said, "Pappa, go right to Information and find out exactly when the ship to Trantor comes to berth. Hurry!"
But Pappa took one step and stopped. Loud metallic words were booming overhead, and five thousand pairs of eyes looked startledly upwards.
"Men and women," it said, with sharp force. "The airport is being searched for a dangerous fugitive, and it is now surrounded. No one can enter and no one can leave. The search will, however, be conducted with great speed and no ships will reach or leave berth during the interval, so you will not miss your ship. I repeat, no one will miss his ship. The grid will descend. None of you will move outside your square until the grid is removed, as otherwise we will be forced to use our neuronic whips."
During the minute or less in which the voice dominated the vast dome of the spaceport's waiting room, Arcadia could not have moved if all the evil in the Galaxy had concentrated itself into a ball and hurled itself at her.
They could mean only her. It was not even necessary to formulate that idea as a specific thought. But why-
Callia had engineered her escape. And Callia was of the Second Foundation. Why, then, the search now? Had Callia failed? Could Callia fail? Or was this part of the plan, the intricacies of which escaped her?
For a vertiginous moment, she wanted to jump up and shout that she gave up, that she would go with them, that… that-
But Mamma's hand was on her wrist. "Quick! Quick! Well go to the lady's room before they start."
Arcadia did not understand. She merely followed blindly. They oozed through the crowd, frozen as it was into clumps, with the voice still booming through its last words.
The grid was descending now, and Pappa, openmouthed, watched it come down. He had heard of it and read of it, but had never actually been the object of it. It glimmered in the air, simply a series of cross-hatched and tight radiation-beams that set the air aglow in a harmless network of flashing light.
It always was so arranged as to descend slowly from above in order that it might represent a falling net with all the terrific psychological implications of entrapment.
It was at waist-level now, ten feet between glowing lines in each direction. In his own hundred square feet, Pappa found himself alone, yet the adjoining squares were crowded. He felt himself conspicuously isolated but knew that to move into the greater anonymity of a group would have meant crossing one of those glowing lines, stirring an alarm, and bringing down the neuronic whip.
He waited.
He could make out over the heads of the eerily quiet and waiting mob, the far-off stir that was the line of policemen covering the vast floor area, lighted square by lighted square.
It was a long time before a uniform stepped into his square and carefully noted its co-ordinates into an official notebook.
"Papers!"
Pappa handed them over, and they were flipped through in expert fashion.
"You're Preem Palver, native of Trantor, on Kalgan for a month, returning to Trantor. Answer, yes or no."
"Yes, yes."
"What's your business on Kalgan?"
"I'm trading representative of our farm co-operative. I've been negotiating terms with the Department of Agriculture on Kalgan.
"Um-m-m. Your wife is with you? Where is she? She is mentioned in your papers."
"Please. My wife is in the-" He pointed.
"Hanto," roared the policeman. Another uniform joined him.
The first one said, dryly, "Another dame in the can, by the Galaxy. The place must be busting with them. Write down her name." He indicated the entry in the papers which gave it.
"Anyone else with you?"
"My niece."
"She's not mentioned in the papers."
"She came separately."
"Where is she? Never mind, I know. Write down the niece's name, too, Hanto. What's her name? Write down Arcadia Palver. You stay right here, Palver. We'll take care of the women before we leave."
Pappa waited interminably. And then, long, long after, Mamma was marching toward him, Arcadia's hand firmly in hers, the two policemen trailing behind her.
They entered Pappa's square, and one said, "Is this noisy old woman your wife?"
"Yes, sir," said Pappa, placatingly.
"Then you'd better tell her she's liable to get into trouble if she talks the way she does to the First Citizen's police." He straightened his shoulders angrily. "Is this your niece?"
"Yes, sir."
"I want her papers."
Looking straight at her husband, Mamma slightly, but no less firmly, shook her head.
A short pause, and Pappa said with a weak smile, "I don't think I can do that."
"What do you mean you can't do that?" The policeman thrust out a hard palm. "Hand it over."
"Diplomatic immunity," said Pappa, softly.
"What do you mean?"
"I said I was trading representative of my farm co-operative. I'm accredited to the Kalganian government as an official foreign representative and my papers prove it. I showed them to you and now I don't want to be bothered any more."
For a moment, the policeman was taken aback. "I got to see your papers. It's orders."
"You go away," broke in Mamma, suddenly. "When we want you, we'll send for you, you… you bum."
The policeman's lips tightened. "Keep your eye on them, Hanto. I'll get the lieutenant."
"Break a leg!" called Mamma after him. Someone laughed, and then choked it off suddenly.
The search was approaching its end. The crowd was growing dangerously restless. Forty-five minutes had elapsed since the grid had started falling and that is too long for best effects. Lieutenant Dirige threaded his way hastily, therefore, toward the dense center of the mob.
"Is this the girl?" he asked wearily. He looked at her and she obviously fitted the description. All this for a child.
He said, "Her papers, if you please?"
Pappa began, "I have already explained-"