Bayta looked up at him. "I don't know that I want him to. I don't know what to say or do. Do you?"

The inner buzzer sounded with its intermittent burring noise. Bayta's lips moved wordlessly, "The Mule!"

Magnifico was in the doorway, eyes wide, his voice a whimper, "The Mule?"

Toran murmured, "I've got to let them in."

A contact opened the air lock and the outer door closed behind the newcomer. The scanner showed only a single shadowed figure.

"It's only one person," said Toran, with open relief, and his voice was almost shaky as he bent toward the signal tube, "Who are you?"

"You'd better let me in and find out, hadn't you?" The words came thinly out the receiver.

"I'll inform you that this is a Foundation ship and consequently Foundation territory by international treaty."

"I know that."

"Come with your arms free, or I'll shoot. I'm well-armed."

"Done!"

Toran opened the inner door and closed contact on his blast pistol, thumb hovering over the pressure point. There was the sound of footsteps and then the door swung open, and Magnifico cried out, "It's not the Mule. It's but a man."

The "man" bowed to the clown somberly, "Very accurate. I'm not the Mule." He held his hands apart, "I'm not armed, and I come on a peaceful errand. You might relax and put the blast pistol away. Your hand isn't steady enough for my peace of mind."

"Who are you?" asked Toran, brusquely.

"I might ask you that," said the stranger, coolly, "since you're the one under false pretenses, not I."

"How so?"

"You're the one who claims to be a Foundation citizen when there's not an authorized Trader on the planet."

"That's not so. How would you know?"

"Because I am a Foundation citizen, and have my papers to prove it. Where are yours?"

"I think you'd better get out."

"I think not. If you know anything about Foundation methods, and despite your imposture you might, you'd know that if I don't return alive to my ship at a specified time, there'll be a signal at the nearest Foundation headquarters so I doubt if your weapons will have much effect, practically speaking."

There was an irresolute silence and then Bayta said, calmly, "Put the blaster away, Toran, and take him at face value. He sounds like the real thing."

"Thank you," said the stranger.

Toran put his gun on the chair beside him, "Suppose you explain all this now."

The stranger remained standing. He was long of bone and large of limb. His face consisted of hard flat planes and it was somehow evident that he never smiled. But his eyes lacked hardness.

He said, "News travels quickly, especially when it is apparently beyond belief. I don't suppose there's a person on Kalgan who doesn't know that the Mule's men were kicked in the teeth today by two tourists from the Foundation. I knew of the important details before evening, and, as I said, there are no Foundation tourists aside from myself on the planet. We know about those things."

"Who are the 'we'?"

"'We' are - 'we'! Myself for one! I knew you were at the Hangar - you had been overheard to say so. I had my ways of checking the registry, and my ways of finding the ship."

He turned to Bayta suddenly, "You're from the Foundation - by birth, aren't you?"

"Am I?"

"You're a member of the democratic opposition - they call it 'the underground.' I don't remember your name, but I do the face. You got out only recently - and wouldn't have if you were more important."

Bayta shrugged, "You know a lot."

"I do. You escaped with a man. That one?"

"Does it matter what I say?"

"No. I merely want a thorough mutual understanding. I believe that the password during the week you left so hastily was 'Seldon, Hardin, and Freedom.' Porfirat Hart was your section leader. "

"Where'd you get that?" Bayta was suddenly fierce. "Did the police get him?" Toran held her back, but she shook herself loose and advanced.

The man from the Foundation said quietly, "Nobody has him. It's just that the underground spreads widely and in queer places. I'm Captain Han Pritcher of Information, and I'm a section leader myself - never mind under what name."

He waited, then said, "No, you don't have to believe me. In our business it is better to overdo suspicion than the opposite. But I'd better get past the preliminaries."

"Yes," said Toran, "suppose you do."

"May I sit down? Thanks." Captain Pritcher swung a long leg across his knee and let an arm swing loose over the back of the chair. "I'll start out by saying that I don't know what all this is about - from your angle. You two aren't from the Foundation, but it's not a hard guess that you're from one of the independent Trading worlds. That doesn't bother me overmuch. But out of curiosity, what do you want with that fellow, that clown you snatched to safety? You're risking your life to hold on to him."

"I can't tell you that."

"Hm-m-m. Well, I didn't think you would. But if you're waiting for the Mule himself to come behind a fanfarade of horns, drums, and electric organs - relax! The Mule doesn't work that way."

"What?" It came from both Toran and Bayta, and in the comer where Magnifico lurked with ears almost visibly expanded, there was a sudden joyful start.

"That's right. I've been trying to contact him myself, and doing a rather more thorough job of it than you two amateurs can. It won't work. The man makes no personal appearance, does not allow himself to be photographed or simulated, and is seen only by his most intimate associates."

"Is that supposed to explain your interest in us, captain?" questioned Toran.

"No. That clown is the key. That clown is one of the very few that have seen him. I want him. He may be the proof I need - and I need something, Galaxy knows - to awaken the Foundation."

"It needs awakening?" broke in Bayta with sudden sharpness. "Against what? And in what role do you act as alarm, that of rebel democrat or of secret police and provocateur?"

The captain's face set in its hard lines. "When the entire Foundation is threatened, Madame Revolutionary, both democrats and tyrants perish. Let us save the tyrants from a greater, that we may overthrow them in their turn."

"Who's the greater tyrant you speak of?" flared Bayta.

"The Mule! I know a bit about him, enough to have been my death several times over already, if I had moved less nimbly. Send the clown out of the room. This will require privacy."

"Magnifico," said Bayta, with a gesture, and the clown left without a sound.

The captain's voice was grave and intense, and low enough so that Toran and Bayta drew close.

He said, "The Mule is a shrewd operator - far too shrewd not to realize the advantage of the magnetism and glamour of personal leadership. If he gives that up, it's for a reason. That reason must be the fact that personal contact would reveal something that is of overwhelming importance not to reveal."

He waved aside questions, and continued more quickly, "I went back to his birthplace for this, and questioned people who for their knowledge will not live long. Few enough are still alive. They remember the baby born thirty years before - the death of his mother - his strange youth. The Mule is not a human being!"

And his two listeners drew back in horror at the misty implications. Neither understood, fully or clearly, but the menace of the phrase was definite.

The captain continued, "He is a mutant, and obviously from his subsequent career, a highly successful one. I don't know his powers or the exact extent to which he is what our thrillers would call a 'superman,' but the rise from nothing to the conqueror of Kalgan's warlord in two years is revealing. You see, don't you, the danger? Can a genetic accident of unpredictable biological properties be taken into account in the Seldon plan?"

Slowly, Bayta spoke, "I don't believe it. This is some sort of complicated trickery. Why didn't the Mule's men kill us when they could have, if he's a superman?"

"I told you that I don't know the extent of his mutation. He may not be ready, yet, for the Foundation, and it would be a sign of the greatest wisdom to resist provocation until ready. Now let me speak to the clown."

The captain faced the trembling Magnifico, who obviously distrusted this huge, hard man who faced him.

The captain began slowly, "Have you seen the Mule with your own eyes?"

"I have but too well, respected sir. And felt the weight of his arm with my own body as well."

"I have no doubt of that. Can you describe him?"

"It is frightening to recall him, respected sir. He is a man of mighty frame. Against him, even you would be but a spindling. His hair is of a burning crimson, and with all my strength and weight I could not pull down his arm, once extended - not a hair's thickness." Magnifico's thinness seemed to collapse upon itself in a huddle of arms and legs. "Often, to amuse his generals or to amuse only himself, he would suspend me by one finger in my belt from a fearful height, while I chattered poetry. It was only after the twentieth verse that I was withdrawn, and each improvised and each a perfect rhyme, or else start over. He is a man of overpowering might, respected sir, and cruel in the use of his power - and his eyes, respected sir, no one sees."

"What? What's that last?"

"He wears spectacles, respected sir, of a curious nature. It is said that they are opaque and that he sees by a powerful magic that far transcends human powers. I have heard," and his voice was small and mysterious, "that to see his eyes is to see death; that he kills with his eyes, respected sir."

Magnifico's eyes wheeled quickly from one watching face to another. He quavered, "It is true. As I live, it is true. "

Bayta drew a long breath, "Sounds like you're right, captain. Do you want to take over?"

"Well, let's look at the situation. You don't owe anything here? The hangar's barrier above is free?"

"I can leave any time."

"Then leave. The Mule may not wish to antagonize the Foundation, but he runs a frightful risk in letting Magnifico get away. It probably accounts for the hue and cry after the poor devil in the first place. So there may be ships waiting for you upstairs. If you're lost in space, who's to pin the crime?"