He bent his face close to the captain’s and talked a long time. 9009 could not catch a word of what he said; but once he saw the captain look up and glance sharply toward him. Then Jennings straightened up. He had finished. He looked into the captain’s eyes. The captain nodded silently, a triple nod that told understanding, agreement, and promise. Jennings turned and went out. The case of 9009 had been decided.
Suddenly 9009 found himself on his feet, and a hoarse voice that he hardly recognised as his own was bellowing: “Say, don’t I get any say about this? don’t I get any say?”
The trusty, who was near the door, turned and threw back a glance half curious, half ironical, then went on softly, on the balls of his feet, into an inner office. The captain did not look up; he sat drumming the desk with his thick fingers. But the scowl had deepened between his shaggy brows, and his eyes had become very small. 9009 dropped back upon the bench; he gripped the edge and waited. And again, irre-
