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Deal Relway himself came to the house. He never made it quite clear why. The little man has trouble articulating sometimes. He did hint that he was convinced that I’d collaborated in the escape of a particular royal prisoner and that I had been an accessory to the total moronification of three already-subhuman subjects of the Karentine Crown. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing in the case of those particular subjects.

As far as he was concerned, justice had been served.

“What was that all about?” I asked the Dead Man after the director took his leave.

The only response I got was the psychic equivalent of a snore. I wanted to scream. I’d counted on the Dead Man to pluck Relway’s psychic bones.