ones was already off somewhere in a ship built according to
his own notions. Officially he was doing research for Spaceways, Inc.,
but actually nobody told him what to do. He puttered happily with
improbable contrivances and sometimes got even more improbable results.
Holden was already off of Earth. He was on the planet of the shaggy
beasts, acting as consultant on the cases of persons who arrived there
and became emotionally disturbed because they could do as they pleased,
instead of being forced by economic necessity to do otherwise.

But this day Babs and Cochrane went together into the grand concourse of
the Spaceways terminal. There were people everywhere. The hiring-booths
of enterprises on the three planets now under development took
applications for jobs on those remote worlds, and explained how long one
had to contract to work in order to have one's fare paid. Chambers of
Commerce representatives were prepared to give technical information to
prospective entrepreneurs. There were reservation-desks, and
freight-routing desks, and tourist-agency desks ...

"Hmmm," said Cochrane suddenly. "D'you know, I haven't heard of Dabney
in months! What happened to him?"

"Dabney?" said Babs. She beamed. Women in the terminal saw the clothes
she was wearing. They did not recognize her--Cochrane had kept her off
the air--but they envied her. She felt very nice indeed. "Dabney?--Oh, I
had to use my own judgment there, Jed. You were so busy! After all, he
was scientific consultant to Spaceways. He did pay Jones cold cash for
fame-rights. When everything else got so much more important than just
the scientific theory, he got in a terrible state. His family consulted
Doctor Holden, and we arranged it. He's right down this way!"

She pointed. And there was a splendid plate-glass office built out from
the wall of the grand concourse. It was elevated, so that it was
charmingly conspicuous. There was a chastely designed but highly visible
sign under the stairway leading to it. The sign said; "_H. G. Dabney,
Scientific Consultant._"

Dabney sat at an imposing desk in plain view of all the thousands who
had shipped out and the millions who would ship out in time to come. He
thought, visibly. Presently he stood up and paced meditatively up and
down the office which was as eye-catching as a gold-fish bowl of equal
size in the same place. He seemed to see someone down in the concourse.
He could have recognized Cochrane, of course. Bu