PART II
It took minutes only.
He had headed back to the waterfront, afraid to run, with some vague notion of stealing a boat. Before he reached the row of saloons and joints, a smart-looking squad of eight tall men overtook him.
"Hold it, mister," a sergeant said. "Are you Orsino?"
"No," he said hopelessly. "That crazy woman began to yell at me that I was Orsino, but my name's Wyman. What's this about?"
The other men fell in beside and behind him. "We're stepping over to O.N.I.," the sergeant said.
"There's the son of a b***h!" somebody bawled. Suddenly there were a dozen sweatered Guardsmen around them. Their leader was the thug Orsino had beaten in a fair fight. He said silkily to the sergeant: "We want that boy, leatherneck. Blow."
The sergeant went pale. "He's wanted for questio
