ain. "You're staying here,
Cuddles. You're supposed to be a woman now, remember!"

She was swearing hotly as they left, but made no attempt to follow.
Gordon broke into a slow trot behind Izzy, until they could spot one of
the few remaining cabs. He stopped it with his whistle, and dumped the
passenger out unceremoniously, while Izzy gave the address.

"The damned fool opened up on the border--figured he'd circulate to both
sections," Izzy said. "We'd better get out a block up and walk. And I
hope we ain't _too_ bloody late!"

The building was a wreck, outside; inside it was worse. Men in the
Municipal uniform were working over the small job press and dumping the
hand-set type from the boxes. On the floor, a single Legal cop lay under
the wreckage, apparently having gotten there first and been taken care
of by the later Municipals. Randolph had been sitting in a chair between
two of the cops, but now he leaped up and tried to flee through the back
door.

Izzy started forward, but Gordon pulled him back, as the cops reached
for their weapons. The gun in his hand picked them out at quarters too
close for a miss, starting with the cop who had jumped to catch
Randolph. Izzy had ducked around the side, and now came back, leading
the little man.

Randolph paid no attention to the dead men, nor to the bruises on his
own body. He moved forward to the press, staring at it, and there were
tears in his eyes as he ran his hands over the broken metal. Then he
looked up at them. "Arrest or rescue?" he asked.

"Arrest!" a voice from the door said harshly, and Bruce Gordon swung to
see six Legals filing in, headed by Hendrix himself. The captain nodded
at Gordon. "Good work, Sergeant. By jinx, when I heard the Municipals
were coming, I was scared they'd get him for sure. Crane wants to watch
this guy shot in person!"

He grabbed Randolph by the arm.

"You're overlooking something, Hendrix," Gordon cut in. He had moved
back toward the wall, to face the group. "If you ever look at my record,
you'll find I'm an ex-newspaperman myself. This is a rescue. Tie them
up, Izzy."

Hendrix was faster than Gordon had thought. He had his gun almost up
before Gordon could fire. A bluish hole appeared on the man's forehead;
he dropped slowly. The others made no trouble as Izzy bound them with
baling wire.

"And I hope nobody finds them," he commented. "All right, Randy, I guess
we're a bunch of refugees heading for the outside, and bloody