"But it is not a question of the law," cried Arvardan, "but of the safety of the Galaxy.",

"Your Excellency"-the Secretary rose in his seat-"I have a request to make. I would like to have this Joseph Schwartz removed from the room."

"Why so?"

"This man, in addition to reading minds, has certain powers of mental force. I was captured by means of a paralysis induced by this Schwartz. It is my fear that he may attempt something of the sort now against me, or even against you, Your Excellency, that forces me to the request."

Arvardan rose to his feet, but the Secretary overshouted him to say, "No hearing can be fair if a man is present who might subtly influence the mind of the judge by means of admitted mental gifts."

Ennius made his decision quickly. An orderly entered, and Joseph Schwartz, offering no resistance, nor showing the slightest sign of perturbation on his moonlike face, was led away.

To Arvardan it was the final blow.

As for the Secretary, he rose now and for the moment stood there-a squat, grim figure in green; strong in his self-confidence.

He began, in serious, formal style, "Your Excellency, all of Dr. Arvardan's beliefs and statements rest upon the testimony of Dr. Shekt. In turn, Dr. Shekt's beliefs rest upon the dying delirium of one man. And all this, Your Excellency, all this, somehow never reached the surface until after Joseph Schwartz was submitted to the Synapsifier.

"Who, then, is Joseph Schwartz? Until Joseph Schwartz appeared on the scene, Dr. Shekt was a normal, untroubled man. You yourself, Your Excellency, spent an afternoon with him the day Schwartz was brought in for treatment. Was he abnormal then? Did he inform you of treason against the Empire? Of certain babblings on the part of a dying biochemist? Did he seem even troubled? Or suspicious? He says now that he was instructed by the High Minister to falsify the results of the Synapsifier tests, not to record the names of those treated. Did he tell you that then? Or only now, after that day on which Schwartz appeared?

"Again, who is Joseph Schwartz? He spoke no known language at the time he was brought in. So much we found out for ourselves later, when we first began to suspect the stability of Dr. Shekt's reason. He was brought in by a farmer who knew nothing of his identity, or, indeed, any facts about him at all. Nor have any since been discovered.

"Yet this man has strange mental powers. He can stun at a hundred yards by thought alone-kill at closer range. I myself have been paralyzed by him; my arms and legs were manipulated by him; my mind might have been manipulated by him if he had wished.

"I believe, certainly, that Schwartz did manipulate the minds of these others. They say I captured them, that I threatened them with death, that I confessed to treason and to aspiring to Empire-Yet ask of them one question, Your Excellency. Have they not been thoroughly exposed to the influence of Schwartz, that is, of a man capable of controlling their minds?

"Is not perhaps Schwartz a traitor? If not, who is Schwartz?"

The Secretary seated himself, calm, almost genial.

Arvardan felt as though his brain had mounted a cyclotron and was spinning outward now in faster and faster revolutions.

What answer could one make? That Schwartz was from the past? What evidence was there for that? That the man spoke a genuinely primitive speech? But only he himself-Arvardan-could testify to that. And he, Arvardan, might well have a manipulated mind. After all, how could he tell his mind had not been manipulated? Who was Schwartz? What had so convinced him of this great plan of Galactic conquest?

He thought again. From where came his conviction of the truth of the conspiracy? He was an archaeologist, given to doubting, but now-Had it been one man's word? One girl's kiss? Or Joseph Schwartz?

He couldn't think! He couldn't think!

"Well?" Ennius sounded impatient. "Have you anything to say, Dr. Shekt? Or you, Dr. Arvardan?"

But Pola's voice suddenly pierced the silence. "Why do you ask them? Can't you see that it's all a lie? Don't you see that he's tying us all up with his false tongue? Oh, we're all going to die, and I don't care any more-but we could stop it, we could stop it-And instead we just sit here and-and-talk-" She burst into wild sobs.

The Secretary said, "So we are reduced to the screams of a hysterical girl…Your Excellency, I have this proposition. My accusers say that all this, the alleged virus and whatever else they have in mind, is scheduled for a definite time-six in the morning, I believe. I offer to remain in your custody for a week. If what they say is true, word of an epidemic in the Galaxy ought to reach Earth within a few days. If such occurs, Imperial forces will still control Earth-"

"Earth is a fine exchange, indeed, for a Galaxy of humans," mumbled the white-faced Shekt.

"I value my own life, and that of my people. We are hostages for our innocence, and I am prepared at this instant to inform the Society of Ancients that I will remain here for a week of my own free will and prevent any disturbances that might otherwise occur."

He folded his arms.

Ennius looked up, his face troubled. "I find no fault in this man-"

Arvardan could stand it no more. With a quiet and deadly ferocity, he arose and strode quickly toward the Procurator. What he meditated was never known. Afterward he himself could not remember. At any rate, it made no difference. Ennius had a neuronic whip and used it.

For the third time since landing on Earth everything about Arvardan flamed up into pain, spun about, and vanished.

In the hours during which Arvardan was unconscious the six o'clock deadline was reached-

And passed!

Light- Blurring light and misty shadows-melting and twisting, and then coming into focus.

A face-Eyes upon his- "Pola!" Things were sharp and clear to Arvardan in a single, leaping bound. "What time is it?"

His fingers were hard upon her wrist, so that she winced involuntarily.

"It's past seven," she whispered. "Past the deadline."

He looked about wildly, starting from the cot on which he lay, disregarding the burning in his joints. Shekt, his lean figure huddled in a chair, raised his head to nod in brief mournfulness.

"It's all over, Arvardan."

"Then Ennius-"

"Ennius," said Shekt, "would not take the chance. Isn't that strange?" He laughed a queer, cracked, rasping laugh. "The three of us singlehandedly discover a vast plot against humanity, singlehandedly we capture the ringleader and bring him to justice. It's like a visicast, isn't it, with the great all-conquering heroes zooming to victory in the nick of time? That's where they usually end it. Only in our case the visicast went on and we found that nobody believed us. That doesn't happen in visicasts, does it? Things end happily there, don't they? It's funny-" The words turned into rough, dry sobs.

Arvardan looked away, sick. Pola's eyes were dark universes, moist and tear-filled. Somehow, for an instant, he was lost in them-they were universes, star-filled. And toward those stars little gleaming metallic cases were streaking, dee vouring the light-years as they penetrated hyperspace in calculated, deadly paths. Soon-perhaps already-they would approach, pierce atmospheres, fall apart into unseen deadly rains of virus- Well, it was over. It could no longer be stopped. "Where is Schwartz?" he asked weakly. But Pola only shook her head. "They never brought him back."

The door opened, and Arvardan was not so far gone in the acceptance of death as to fail to look up with a momentary wash of hope upon his face.

But it was Ennius, and Arvardan's face hardened and turned away.

Ennius approached and looked momentarily at the father and daughter. But even now Shekt and Pola were primarily Earth creatures and could say nothing to the Procurator, even though they knew that short and violent as their future lives were to be, that of the Procurator would be even shorter and more violent.