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representation, and went to see this O’Toole person. “Release them, sir,” I demanded, “release them this instant on reasonable bail or I shall be forced to obtain a writ of habeas corpus”.’ Mr. Thwickhammer turned purple. ‘Do you know what O’Toole told me I could do with such a writ? No, you cannot imagine what he said. He said—’
    ‘I can imagine, 70,’ interrupted Herr Syrup. Since they were now back in earshot of Miss Thirkell and the china dogs, he was spared explicit details.
    ‘I am afraid your friends will be held in gaol until the end of the occupation,’ said Mr. Thwickhammer. ‘Beastly, sir. I have assured myself that the conditions of detention are not unduly uncomfortable, but really – I must say—!’ He bowed. ‘Good day, sir.’
    Miss Thirkell looked wistfully at Herr Syrup, across the length of her deserted shoppe, and said: ‘If you don’t care for one of the little dogs, sir, I have some nice lampshades with “Souvenir of Grendel” and a copy of
Trees
printed on them.’
    ‘No, t’ank you yust the same,’ said Herr Syrup, and went quickly back upstairs. The thought of what an ax could do among all those Dresden shepherdesses and clock-bellied Venuses made him sympathize with his remote ancestors’ practice of going berserk.
    A sentry outside the office was leaning out the window, admiring Grendel’s young ladies as they tripped by in their brief light dresses under a fresh morning breeze. Herr Syrup did not wish to interrupt him, but went quickly through the anteroom and the door beyond.
    General Scourge-of-the-Sassenach O’Toole looked up froma heap of papers on his desk. The long face tightened. Finally he clipped: ‘So there ye are. An’ who might have given ye an appointment?’
    ‘Ja,’ agreed Herr Syrup, sitting down.
    ‘If ’tis about your spalpeen friends ye’ve come, waste no time. Ye’ll not see thim released before Laoighise shall be free.’
    ‘From de Shannon to de sea?’
    ‘Says the Shan Van Vaught!’ roared O’Toole automatically. He caught himself, snapped his mousetrap mouth shut, and glared.
    ‘Er—’ Herr Syrup gathered courage and rushed in. ‘Ve have trouble on our ship. De internal compensator has developed enough bugs to valk avay vit’ it. As long as ve is stranded here anyhow, you must let us make repairs.’
    ‘Oh, must I?’ murmured O’Toole, the glint of power in his eye.
    ‘ja, any distressed ship has got to be let fixed, according to de Convention of Luna. You vould not vant it said dat you vas a barbarian violating international law, vould you?’
    General O’Toole snarled wordlessly. At last he flung back: ‘But your crew broke the law first, actin’ as belligerents when they was supposed to be neutrals. I’ve every right to hold them, accident to their ship or not, while the state of emergency obtains.’
    Herr Syrup sighed. He had expected no more. ‘At least you have no charge against me,’ he said. ‘I vas not any place near de trouble last night. So you got to let me repair de damage, no?’
    O’Toole thrust a bony jaw at him. ‘I’ve only your word there’s any damage at all.’
    ‘I knew you vould t’ink dat, so before I come here I asked you shief gyronics enshineer vould he please to look at ourcompensator and check it himself.’ Herr Syrup unfolded a sheet of S.L.LE.F. letterhead from his pocket. ‘He gave me dis.’
    O’Toole squinted at the green paper and read:
    TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
This is to say that I have personal inspected the internal field compensator of I/S
Mercury Girl
and made every test known to man. I certify that I have never seen any piece of apparatus so deranged. I further certify as my considered opinion that the devil has got into it and only Father Kelly can make the necessary repairs.
    Shamus O’Banion
Col., Eng., S.L.LE.F.
    ‘Hm,’ said O’Toole. ‘Well, yes.’
    ‘You realize I must take de ship up and put her in orbit outside Grendel’s geegee field,’ said