"Certainly," sniffed Boek, and moved away.
Magnus Ridolph presently rejoined him.
"I wanted to find out what type of mail the civic officers received, and also any other circumstances he might have noted which would help me."
"And did he help you?"
"Very much," said Magnus Ridolph.
The two men skirted the waterfront, where giant seaweed barges loomed dark at their moorings, then back toward the Export Warehouse. The red sun was close to the horizon when they finally reached the car, and blood-colored light gave the town an aspect of fabled antiquity, softening the clutter and squalor. Silently they drove up the bumpy road to the Mission at the top of the ridge.
As they alighted, Magnus Ridolph turned to Boek.
"Have you a microscope conveniently at hand?"
"Three," said Boek shortly. "Visual, electronic, gamma-beta."
"I'd like to use one of them tonight," said Magnus Ridolph.
"As you wish."
"Tomorrow I believe that, one way or another, we shall clear up the affair."
Boek stared at him curiously. "You think you know who McInch is?"
"It was immediately obvious," said Magnus Ridolph, "in the light of my special knowledge."
Boek clamped his jaw. "I'd bolt my door tonight, if I were you. Whoever he is - he's a murderer."
Magnus Ridolph nodded. "I believe you're right."
Sclerotto night was long at this season - fourteen hours - and Magnus Ridolph arose, bathed, dressed himself in a clean white and blue tunic, all before dawn.
From the windows of the reception hall he stood watching for the sunrise, the sky as yet holding only a blue electric glare, when he heard a tread behind him.
Turning, he found Klemmer Boek watching him, the round head twisted to one side, the blue eyes full of brittle speculation.
"Sleep well?" was Boek's greeting.
"Indeed I did," said Magnus Ridolph. "I hope you slept as soundly."
Boek grunted. "Ready for breakfast?"
"Quite ready," said Magnus Ridolph. They passed into the dining room, and Boek ordered breakfast from his lone servant.
They ate silently, the blue pre-dawn light growing ever stronger. Only after coffee did Magnus Ridolph lean back, expansively light a small cigar.
"Still think you can settle the case today?" asked Boek.
"Yes," said Magnus Ridolph, "I think it's very possible."
"Er - you know who McInch is?"
"Beyond a doubt."
"And you can prove it?"
Magnus Ridolph let a plume of cigar smoke curl up through his fingers into the first watery ray from the sapphire-blue sun. "After a fashion - yes."
"You don't sound very assured."
"Well - I have a stratagem in mind which will save a great deal of time."
"Yes?" Boek said, with heavy sarcasm, drumming his fingers.
"I would like you to have Mayor - ah, Juju?... call a meeting this afternoon of the city officials. The city hall would be a satisfactory place. And at the meeting we will discuss McInch."
As they plowed through the dust to the city hall, Boek snapped, "This seems a little melodramatic."
"Possibly, possibly," said Magnus Ridolph. "Possibly dangerous also."
Boek hesitated in mid-stride. "Are you sure - "
"Nothing is a certainty," said Magnus Ridolph. "Not even the continued rotation of this planet on its axis. And the least predictable phenomena I know of is the duration of a life."
Boek looked straight ahead, said nothing.
They entered the city hall, paused in the ante-room a moment to let their eyes adapt to the dimness. Ahead of them to right and left, bulks of different masses and shapes began to form, splotched here and there by the rays of red and blue which entered through the matting.
"The garbage collector is here," said Magnus Ridolph behind his hand to Boek. "I can smell him."
They had advanced into the central room. The Mayor had been pacing solemnly back and forth, red fez perched slantwise, in the center of a rough circle formed by the Golespod garbage-collector, the multipede postmaster, Joe Bertrand the fire-chief, the Tau Gemini warehouse manager, and the amphibian Chief of Police.
"Gentlemen," said Magnus Ridolph, "I won't take up much of your time. As you all know, I have been investigating that entity known as McInch."
There was movement about the room - a twinkling of the multipede postmaster's legs, a quiver on the police-chief's rubbery hide, a twist of the Mayor's neck. There were slight nervous sounds - a soft hiss from the skatelike Golespod, the Negro fire-chief clearing his throat.
The warehouse manager - the ant-like creature of Tau Gemini - spoke in his toneless voice. "Exactly why are we here? Make your purpose clear."
Magnus Ridolph serenely stroked his beard, glanced from creature to creature. "I have learned McInch's identity. I have estimated the sum he costs Sclerotto every day. I can prove that this creature is a murderer, or at the very least that he attempted to murder me. Yes, me - Magnus Ridolph!" And Magnus Ridolph stood stiff and stern as he spoke.
Again there was the guarded movement, the near-silent eddy of sound, as each of the creatures took itself into the familiar places of its own brain.
Magnus Ridolph said gravely, "As the governing body of the community I would value your advice on what course of action I should follow. Mr. Mayor, have you a suggestion?"
The Yellowbird wove its neck in a series of quick darts and plunges, piped a shrill series of excited unintelligible tones. The head came to a stand-still; the purple eye stared craftily at Magnus Ridolph. "McInch might kill us all."
Boek cleared his throat, muttered uncomfortably, "Do you think it's a good idea for us to..."
Fire-chief Joe Bertrand said, "I'm sick of all this pussyfooting. We have a jail. We have a legal code. Let's judge McInch by what he's done. If he's a thief, put him in jail. If he's a murderer, and if he can take mental surgery, let's give it to him. If he can't, let's execute him!"
Magnus Ridolph nodded. "I can prove McInch is a thief. Several years in jail might prove a salutary experience. You have a clean sanitary jail, with germicidal air-filters, compulsory bathing, pure, sanitary food - "
"Why do you emphasize the wholesomeness of the jail?" buzzed the warehouse manager.
"Because McInch will be exposed to it," said Magnus Ridolph solemnly. "He'll be vaccinated and immunized, and live in a completely germ-free environment. And this will hurt McInch more than death. Now" - and he looked at the metal-tense figures around him - "who is McInch?"
The garbage-collector reared amazingly erect, leaning far back, revealing its pale under-body, it's double row of pale short legs. It writhed, hunched. "Duck!" yelled Boek as the Golespod spat a stinking wash of liquid to all quarters of the room. From the depths of its body came a rumbling voice. "Now all die, all die..."
"Quiet!" said Magnus Ridolph sharply. "Quiet everyone! Mayor, quiet please!"
The Yellowbird's crazed piping diminished. "There is no danger for anyone," said Magnus Ridolph, coolly wiping his face, eyes upon the Golespod, who still reared back. "An ultra-sonic vibrator below the floor, a Hecthmann irradiator in the ceiling have been operating ever since we entered the room. The bacteria in McInch's serum were dead as soon as they left his mouth, if not before."
The Golespod hissed, lowered himself, plunged for the door, little legs pumping like pistons. The chief of police lunged like a porpoise from a wave, landed on the Golespod's flat writhing back. His clawed flippers hooked in the flesh, tore. The Golespod screamed, turned on its back, scraped the amphibian between its legs, folded itself around him, squeezed. Joe Bertrand sprang forward, kicking at the milk-blue eye. The Portmar centipede rippled into the mêlée, and with each of his slender feet seized one of the Golespod's, strained to pull them aside from the constricted chief of police. The Mayor hopped up through the hole in the ceiling, hopped back with a skewer, stabbed, stabbed, stabbed...