 Ben runs from the crime scene, but isn't remorseful for doing so. Why is that, even though he killed a man?
A Coffin for Jacob By EDWARD W. LUDWIG Illustrated by EMSH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction May 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] With never a moment to rest, the pursuit through space felt like a game of hounds and hares ... or was it follow the leader? Ben Curtis eased his pale, gaunt body through the open doorway of the Blast Inn, the dead man following silently behind him. His fear-borne gaze traveled into the dimly illumined Venusian gin mill. The place was like an evil caldron steaming with a brew whose ingredients had been culled from the back corners of three planets. Most of the big room lay obscured behind a shimmering veil of tobacco smoke and the sweet, heavy fumes of Martian Devil's Egg. He jumped, thinking absurdly that it was the dead man's hand. " Desirez-vous d'amour? He was like a red-skinned marionette with pipestem arms and legs, clad in a torn skivvy shirt and faded blue dungarees. I speak English tres fine, senor . But if you had a drug that'd bring a dead man to life, I'd buy and pay with my soul. Five dollars or twenty keelis for visit Martian friend. "Then I show you to good table,— tres bien . I do not charge you, senor ." Because Ben could think of no reason for resisting, he followed. Several times, Ben glimpsed the bulky figures of CO 2 -breathing Venusians, the first he'd ever seen. They were smoky gray, scaly, naked giants, toads in human shape. They stood solitary and motionless, aloof, their green-lidded eyes unblinking. They certainly didn't look like telepaths, as Ben had heard they were, but the thought sent a fresh rivulet of fear down his spine. Once he spied a white-uniformed officer of Hoover City's Security Police. The man was striding down an aisle, idly tapping his neuro-club against the stone booths.
 Running gave him autonomy, and to decide how the next part of his life would pan out.
 It gave him enough time to remember the renegades, and make the plan to go meet them.  He felt he was justified in killing Cobb.  Running away game him opportunity to reflect.  Running gave him autonomy, and to decide how the next part of his life would pan out.