duously cultivated could touch heights of
encased and controlled fury which Murdock himself did not understand and
was only just learning to use as a weapon against a world he had always
found hostile.

He was aware, though he gave no sign of it, that a guard was watching
him. The cop on duty was an old hand--he probably expected some reaction
other than passive acceptance from the prisoner. But he was not going
to get it. The law had Ross sewed up tight this time. Why didn't they
get about the business of shipping him off? Why had he had that
afternoon session with the skull thumper? Ross had been on the defensive
then, and he had not liked it. He had given to the other's questions all
the attention his shrewd mind could muster, but a faint, very faint,
apprehension still clung to the memory of that meeting.

The door of the detention room opened. Ross did not turn his head, but
the guard cleared his throat as if their hour of mutual silence had
dried his vocal cords. "On your feet, Murdock! The judge wants to see
you."

Ross rose smoothly, with every muscle under fluid control. It never paid
to talk back, to allow any sign of defiance to show. He would go through
the motions as if he were a bad little boy who had realized his errors.
It was a meek-and-mild act that had paid off more than once in Ross's
checkered past. So he faced the man seated behind the desk in the other
room with an uncertain, diffident smile, standing with boyish
awkwardness, respectfully waiting for the other to speak first.

Judge Ord Rawle. It was his rotten luck to pull old Eagle Beak on his
case. Well, he would simply have to take it when the old boy dished it
out. Not that he had to remain stuck with it later....

"You have a bad record, young man."

Ross allowed his smile to fade; his shoulders slumped. But under
concealing lids his eyes showed an instant of cold defiance.

"Yes, sir," he agreed in a voice carefully cultivated to shake
convincingly about the edges. Then suddenly all Ross's pleasure in the
skill of his act was wiped away. Judge Rawle was not alone; that blasted
skull thumper was sitting there, watching the prisoner with the same
keenness he had shown the other day.

"A very bad record for the few years you have had to make it." Eagle
Beak was staring at him, too, but without the same look of penetration,
luckily for Ross. "By rights, you should be turned over to the new
Rehabilitation Service...."

Ross froze insi