Magnus Ridolph and Mellish stepped out of the copter, looked out through the cage of charged wire. A group of dark, big-eyed natives stood at a respectful distance, shuffling their feet in loose leather sandals with pointed toes.
On all sides houses sat off the ground on stilts, houses built of a blue white-veined wood, thatched with slabs of gray pith. At the end of a wide avenue stood a larger taller building with wings extending under the trees.
Three Earthmen stood watching the arrival of the copter with listless curiosity. One of these, a sallow thin man with a large beak of a nose and bulging brown eyes, suddenly stiffened in unbelief. He darted forward.
"Mr. Mellish! What On earth? I'm glad to see you!"
"I'm sure, Tomko, I'm sure," said Mellish. "How's everything going?"
Tomko glanced at Magnus Ridolph, then back to Mellish. "Well - nothing definite yet, sir. Old Kanditter - that's the king - won't make any concessions whatever."
"We'll see about that," said Mellish. He turned, raised his voice to the copter pilot. "Let us out of this cage."
The pilot said, "When I give you the word, sir, you can open that door - right there." He walked around the copter. "Now."
Mellish and Magnus Ridolph passed outside, each carrying a pair of magnesium cases.
"Can you tell me," inquired Magnus Ridolph, "where lodging may be found?"
Tomko said doubtfully, "There's usually a few empty houses around. We've been living in one of the wings of the king's palace. If you introduce yourself he'll probably invite you to do likewise."
"Thank you," said Magnus Ridolph. "I'll go pay my respects immediately."
A whistle came to his ears. Turning, he saw the copter pilot beckoning to him through the wire. He went as close to the charged mesh as he dared.
"I just want to warn you," said the pilot. "Watch out for the king. He's the worst of the lot. That's why he's king. Talk about stealing - whoo!" Solemnly shaking his head, he turned back to his copter.
"Thank you," said Magnus Ridolph. He felt a vibration through his wrist. He turned, said to the nearby native, "Your knife makes no impression in the alloy of the case, my friend. You would do better with a heat-needle."
The native slid quietly away. Magnus Ridolph set out for the king's palace. It was a pleasant scene, he thought, reminiscent of ancient Polynesia. The village seemed clean and orderly. Small shops appeared at intervals along the avenue - booths displaying yellow fruit, shiny green tubes, rows of dead shrimp-like insects, jars of rust-colored powder. The proprietors sat in front of the booths, not behind them.
A pavilion extended forward from the front of the palace, and here Magnus Ridolph found Kanditter, the King of Thieves, sitting sleepily in a low deep chair. He was to Magnus Ridolph's eye distinguishable from the other natives only by his headdress - a coronet-like affair woven of a shiny red-gold metal and set with telex crystals.
Unaware of the exact formalities expected of him, Magnus Ridolph merely approached the king, bowed his head.
"Greetings," said the king in a thick voice. "Your name and business?"
"I am Magnus Ridolph, resident of Tran, on Lake Sahara, Earth. I have come - to state the matter briefly - to - "
"To get telex?"
"I would be foolish to deny it."
"Ho!" The king rocked back and forth, pulled back his sharp dark features in a fish-like grin. "No luck. Telex crystal stay on Moritaba."
Magnus Ridolph nodded. He had expected refusal. "In the meantime may I trespass on the royal hospitality?"
The king's grin slowly faded. "Eh? Eh? What you say?"
"Where do you suggest that I stay?"
The king made a sweep of his arm toward the end of his palace. "Much room there. Go around, go in."
"Thank you," said Magnus Ridolph.
To the rear of the palace Magnus Ridolph found suitable quarters - one of a row of rooms facing out on the path like stalls in a stable. The resemblance was heightened by the stable-type door.
It was a pleasant lodging with the trees swaying far overhead, the carpet of red-gold leaves in front. The interior was comfortable though Spartan. Magnus Ridolph found a couch, a pottery ewer filled with cool water, a carved chest built into the wall, a table.
Humming softly to himself, Magnus Ridolph opened the chest, peered within. A soft smile disturbed his beard as he noted the back panel of the chest. It looked solid, felt solid, but Magnus Ridolph knew it could be opened from the outside.
The walls seemed sound - poles of the blue wood were caulked with a putty-like resin and there was no window.
Magnus Ridolph opened his suitcases, laid the goods out on the couch. From without he heard voices, and, looking forth, he saw Mellish rocking on his short legs down the center of the path, bulldog jaw thrust out, hands clenched, elbows swinging wide as he walked. Tomko came to the rear, carrying Mellish's luggage.
Magnus Ridolph nodded courteously, withdrew into his room. He saw Mellish grin broadly to Tomko, heard his comment: "They've got the old goat penned up for sure. Damned if he doesn't look natural with that beard hanging over the door."
Tomko snickered dutifully. Magnus Ridolph frowned. Old goat? He turned back to his couch - in time to catch a dark flicker, a glint of metal.
Magnus Ridolph compressed his lips. His micromac and power pack had disappeared. Peering under the couch, Magnus Ridolph saw a patch of slightly darker fiber in the matting. He straightened his back, just in time to see his pocket screen swinging up through the air into a hole high in the wall.
Magnus Ridolph started to run outside and into the adjoining room, then thought better of it. No telling how many natives would be pillaging his room if he left for an instant. He piled everything back into his suitcases, locked them, placed them in the middle of the floor, sat on the couch, lit a cigarette.
Fifteen minutes he sat in reflection. A muffled bellow made him look up.
"Thieving little blackguards!" he heard Mellish cry. Magnus Ridolph grinned ruefully, rose to his feet and, taking his suitcases, he stepped out into the street.
He found the copter pilot reading a newspaper inside his thief-proof cage. Magnus Ridolph looked through the mesh.
"May I come in?"
The pilot arose, cast the switch. Magnus Ridolph entered, set his suitcases on the ground.
"I just been reading about you," said the pilot.
"Is that right?" asked Magnus Ridolph.
"Yeah - in one of these old newspapers. See - " he pointed out the article with a greasy forefinger. It read:
GHOST-ROBBER APPREHENDED
STARPORT BANK LAUDS EARTH CRIME-DOCTOR
A million munits looted from the Starport Bank were recovered by Magnus Ridolph, noted savant and freelance troubleshooter, who this morning delivered the criminal, Arnold McGurk, 35, unemployed space-man, to Starport police.
After baffling Starport authorities two weeks, Arnold McGurk refused to divulge how he robbed the supposedly thief-proof bank, other than to hint at the aid of 'ghosts.' Magnus Ridolph was similarly uncommunicative and the police admit ignorance of the criminal's modus operandi...
"Wouldn't ever have knowed you was a detective," said the pilot, eyeing Magnus Ridolph reverently. "You don't look the type."
"Thank you," said Magnus Ridolph. "I'm glad to hear it."
The pilot appraised him. "You look more like a professor or a dentist."
Magnus Ridolph winced.
"Just what was them 'ghosts' the article speaks of, Mr. Ridolph?" the pilot inquired.
"Nothing whatever," Magnus Ridolph assured him. "An optical illusion."