Astounding Science Fiction, August 1955 (British Edition) — page 101: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

TIME CRIME 99 cloak, and, under it, a black and silver evening gown. A single jewel twinkled in her black hair. She could have very easily passed for a woman of his own race. The housemaid and the butler were a couple of entirely different articles. Both were about four or five generations from Fourth Level Primitive savagery. The maid, in garishly cheap finery, was big-boned and heavy-bodied, with red-brown hair; she looked like a member of one of the northern European reindeer-herding peoples: who had barely managed to progress as far as the bow and arrow. The butler was probably a mixture of half a dozen primitive races ; he was wearing one of his late master’s evening suits, a bright mellow-pink, which was distinctly unflattering to his complexion. The sound-pickup was too far away to give him what they were saying, but the butler and maid were waving their arms and protesting vehemently. One of the detectives took the woman by the arm; she jerked it loose and aimed a backhand slap at him. He blocked it on his forearm. Immediately, the girl in black turned and said something to her, and she subsided. Vall said, into the box: , “Barth, have the girl in the black cloak brought down to Number Four Interview Room. Put the other two in separate detention cubicles; we’ll talk to them later.’’ He broke the connection and got to his feet. ““Come on, Dalla. I want you to help me with the girl.” ‘Just try and stop me.” Dalla told him. “‘Any interviews you have with that little item, I want to sit in on.” The Proletarian girl, still guarded by a detective, had already been placed in the interview room. The detective nodded to Val,tried to suppress a grin when he saw Dalla behind him, and went out. Vall saw his wife and the prisoner seated, and produced his cigarette case, handing it around. “You're Zinganna; you're of the household of Councilman Salgath Trod, aren’t you?” he asked. ‘““Housekeeper and hostess,”’ the girl replied. ‘I am also his mistress.”’ Vall nodded, smiling. “Which confirms my long-standing respect for Councilman Salgath’s exquisite taste.” ‘“‘Why, thank you,” she said. ““But I doubt if I was brought here to receive compliments. Or was I?”’ “No, [’m afraid not. Have you heard the newscasts of the past few hours concerning Councilman Salgath?’’ She straightened in her seat, looking at him seriously. “No. I and Nindrandigro and Calilla spent the evening on ServSec One- Six-Five. Councilman Salgath told me that he had some business and wanted them out of the apartment, and wanted me to keep an eye on them. We didn’t hear any news at all.” She hesitated. “Has anything ... serious. . happened?” Vall studied her for a moment, then glanced at Dalla. There existed between himself and his wife a sort of vague, semitelepathic, rapport; they had never been able to transmit definite and exact thoughts, but they could clearly prehend one another’s feelings and emotions. He was conscious, now, of Dalla’s sympathy for the Proletarian girl, : COMmicOOKS.COM