Free Beyond This Horizon by Robert A. Heinlein Page B

Estaire’s grand levees, although she did not like him—his remarks confused her; she half suspected the amused contempt he had for her.
    Hamilton was troubled by no gentlemanly scruples which might have kept him from accepting hospitality under the circumstances. Estaire’s parties swarmed with people in amusing combinations. Possessing no special talents of her own, she nevertheless had the knack of inducing brilliant and interesting persons to come to her functions. Hamilton liked that.
    In any case there were always swarms of people present. People were always funny—the more, the merrier!
    He ran across his friend Monroe-Alpha almost at once, walking in company with a young fellow dressed in a blue which did not suit his skin. He touched his shoulder. “Hi, Cliff.”
    “Oh—hello, Felix.”
    “Busy?”
    “At the moment, yes. A little later?”
    “Spare me a second. Do you see that bucko leaning against a pillar over there. Now—he’s looking this way.”
    “What about him?”
    “I think I should recognize him, but I don’t.”
    “I do. Unless I am misled by a close resemblance, he was in the party of the man you burned, night before last.”
    “Sooo! Now that’s interesting.”
    “Try to stay out of trouble, Felix.”
    “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t stain my hostess’ pretty floors. Thanks, Cliff.”
    “Not at all.”
    They moved on, left Hamilton watching the chap he had inquired about. The man evidently became aware that he was being watched, for he left his place and came directly to Hamilton. He paused a ceremonious three paces away and said, “I come in friendship, gentle sir.”
    “‘The House of Hospitality encloses none but friends,’” Hamilton quoted formally.
    “You are kind, sir. My name is McFee Norbert.”
    “Thank you. I hight Hamilton Felix.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    Hamilton suddenly changed his manner. “Ah! Did your friend know that when he chopped at me?”
    McFee glanced quickly to the right and left, as if to see whether or not the remark had been overheard. It was obvious that he did not like the tack. “Softly, sir. Softly,” he protested. “I tell you I come in friendship. That was a mistake, a regrettable mistake. His quarrel was with another.”
    “So? Then why did he challenge me? ”
    “It was a mistake, I tell you. I am deeply sorry.”
    “See here,” said Hamilton. “Is this procedure? If he made an honest error, why does he not come to me like a man? I’ll receive him in peace.”
    “He is not able to.”
    “Why? I did no more than wing him.”
    “Nevertheless, he is not able to. I assure you he has been—disciplined.”
    Hamilton looked at him sharply. “You say ‘disciplined’—and he is not able to meet with me. Is he—perhaps—so ‘disciplined’ that he must tryst with a mortician instead?”
    The other hesitated a moment. “May we speak privately—under the rose?”
    “There is more here than shows above water. I don’t like the rose, my friend Norbert.”
    McFee shrugged. “I am sorry.”
    Hamilton considered the matter. After all, why not? The set-up looked amusing. He hooked an arm in McFee’s. “Let it be under the rose, then. Where shall we talk?”
    McFee filled the glass again. “You have admitted, Friend Felix, that you are not wholly in sympathy with the ridiculous genetic policy of our so-called culture. We knew that.”
    “How?”
    “Does it matter? We have our—ways. I know you to be a man of courage and ability, ready for anything. Would you like to put your resources to work on a really worthwhile project, worthy of a man?”
    “I would need to know what the project is.”
    “Naturally. Let me say—no, perhaps it is just as well not to say anything. Why should I burden you with secrets?”
    Hamilton refused the gambit. He just sat. McFee waited, then added, “Can I trust you, my friend?”
    “If you can’t, then what is my assurance worth?”
    The intensity of McFee’s deep-set eyes relaxed a little for the