«Yes, but — Ben, this isn't the fifteenth century.»

«It is to a lawyer. Jill, if the High Court rules that the Larkin Decision applies, Smith is in a position to grant concessions which may be worth millions, more likely billions. If he assigns his claim to the administration, then Secretary Douglas controls the plums.»

«Ben, why should anybody want that much power?»

«Why does a moth fly toward light? But Smith's financial holdings are almost as important as his position as nominal king-emperor of Mars. The High Court could knock out his squatter's rights but I doubt if anything could shake his ownership of the Lyle Drive and a chunk of Lunar Enterprises. What happens if he dies? A thousand alleged cousins would pop up, of course, but the Science Foundation has fought off such money-hungry vermin for years. It seems possible that, if Smith dies without a will, his fortune reverts to the state.»

«Do you mean the Federation or the United States?»

«Another question to which I have no answer. His parents come from two countries of the Federation and he was born outside them all … and it will make a crucial difference to some people who votes that stock and licenses those patents. It won't be Smith; he won't know a stock proxy from a traffic ticket. It is likely to be whoever can grab him and hang on. I doubt if Lloyd's would insure his life; he strikes me as a poor risk.»

«The poor baby! The poor, poor infant!»

THE RESTAURANT in Hagerstown had «atmosphere» — tables scattered over a lawn leading down to a lake and more tables in the boughs of three enormous trees. Jill wanted to eat in a tree, but Ben bribed the maitre d'hôtel to set up a table near the water, then ordered a stereo tank placed by it.

Jill was miffed. «Ben, why pay these prices if we can't eat in the trees and have to endure that horrible jitterbox?»

«Patience, little one. Tables in trees have microphones; they have to have them for service. This table is not gimmicked — I hope — as I saw the waiter take it from a stack. As for the tank, not only is it un-American to eat without stereo but the racket will interfere with a directional mike — if Mr. Douglas's investigators are taking an interest.»

«Do you really think they're shadowing us, Ben?» Jill shivered. «I'm not cut out for a life of crime.»

«Pish and likewise tush! When I was on the General Synthetics scandals I never slept twice in one place and ate nothing but packaged food. You get to like it — stimulates the metabolism.»

«My metabolism doesn't need it. All I require is one elderly, wealthy patient.»

«Not going to marry me, Jill?»

«After my future husband kicks off, yes. Or maybe I'll be so rich I can keep you as a pet.»

«How about starting tonight?»

«Afterhe kicks off.»

During the dinner the musical show which had been banging their eardrums stopped. An announcer's head filled the tank; he smiled and said, «NWNW, New World Networks and its sponsor, Wise Girl Malthusian Lozenges, is honored to surrender time for a history-making broadcast by the Federation Government. Remember, friends, every wise girl uses Wise Girls. Easy to carry, pleasant to take, guaranteed no-fail, and approved for sale without prescription under Public Law 1312. Why take a chance on old-fashioned, unesthetic, harmful, unsure methods? Why risk losing his love and respect?» The lovely, lupine announcer glanced aside and hurried the commercial: «I give you the Wise Girl, who in turn brings you the Secretary General!»

The 3-D picture cut to a young woman, so sensuous, so mammalian, so seductive, as to make any male unsatisfied with local talent. She stretched and wiggled and said in a bedroom voice, «Ialways use Wise Girl.»

The picture dissolved and an orchestra played Hail to Sovereign Peace. Ben said, «Do you use Wise Girl?»

«None o' your business!» Jill looked ruffled and added, «It's a quack nostrum. Anyhow, what makes you think I need it?»

Caxton did not answer; the tank had filled with the fatherly features of Secretary General Douglas. «Friends,» he began, «fellow citizens of the Federation, I have tonight a unique honor and privilege. Since the triumphant return of our trail-blazing Champion — » He continued to congratulate the citizens of Earth on their successful contact with another planet, another race. He managed to imply that the exploit was the personal accomplishment of every citizen, that any one of them could have led the expedition had he not been busy with serious work — and that he, Secretary Douglas, had been their humble instrument to work their will. The notions were never stated baldly, the assumption being that the common man was the equal of anyone and better than most — and that good old Joe Douglas embodied the common man. Even his mussed cravat and cowlicked hair had a «just folks» quality.

Ben Caxton wondered who had written it. Jim Sanforth, probably — Jim had the slickest touch of any of Douglas's staff in selecting loaded adjectives to tickle and soothe; he had written commercials before he went into politics and had no com punctions. Yes, that bit about «the hand that rocks the cradle» was Jim's work — Jim was the type who would entice a young girl with candy.

«Turn it off!» Jill demanded.

«Quiet pretty foots. I must hear this.» «… and so, friends, I have the honor to bring you our fellow citizen Valentine Michael Smith, the Man from Mars! Mike, we know you are tired and have not been well — but will you say a few words to your friends?»

The stereo scene cut to a semi-close of a man in a wheel chair. Hovering over him was Douglas and on the other side was a nurse, stiff, starched, and photogenic.

Jill gasped. Ben whispered, «Keep quiet!»

The smooth babyface of the man in the chair broke into a shy smile; he looked at the camera and said, «Hello, folks. Excuse me for sitting down. I'm still weak.» He seemed to speak with difficulty and once the nurse took his pulse.

In answer to questions from Douglas he paid compliments to Captain van Tromp and his crew, thanked everyone for his rescue, and said that everyone on Mars was terribly excited over contact with Earth and that he hoped to help in welding friendly relations between the two planets. The nurse interrupted but Douglas said gently, «Mike, do you feel strong enough for one more question?»

«Sure, Mr. Douglas — if I can answer it.»

«Mike? What do you think of the girls here on Earth?»

«Gee!»

The babyface looked awestruck and ecstatic and turned pink. The scene cut to head and shoulders of the Secretary General. «Mike asked me to tell you,» he went on in fatherly tones, «that he will be back to see you as soon as he can. He has to build up his muscles, you know. Possibly next week, if the doctors say he is strong enough.» The scene shifted to Wise Girl lozenges and a playlet made clear that a girl who did not use them was not only out of her mind but a syntho in the hay; men would cross the street to avoid her. Ben switched channels, then turned to Jill and said moodily, «Well, I can tear up tomorrow's column. Douglas has him under his thumb.»

«Ben!»

«Huh?»

«That's not the Man from Mars!»

«What? Baby, are you sure?»

«Oh, it looked like him. But it was not the patient I saw in that guarded room.»

Ben pointed out that dozens of persons had seen Smith — guards, internes, male nurses, the captain and crew of the Champion, probably others. Quite a few of them must have seen this newscast — the administration would have to assume that some of them would spot a substitution. It did not make sense — too great a risk.

Jill simply stuck out her lower lip and insisted that the person on stereo was not the patient she had met. Finally she said angrily, «Have it your own way!Men!»