nt_, unquote. Would _you_ care to comment on his
statement?"

Senator Crane thought he heard a faint ripple of mirth drift across the
room. But, of course, he had to be mistaken. "I think the governor
replied wisely. I expect to return home and confer with him as soon as
possible."

"Senator, can you explain why, out of all the able, sincere officials in
Washington, D.C., elected or otherwise, you were the only one with
enough wisdom and courage to put this matter before the people?"

"Young man, I am not going to pass judgment on anyone in Washington or
elsewhere. Each of us, I'm sure, does his duty as he sees it."

Again it seemed to Senator Crane that he heard a ripple of mirth--louder
this time. It had to be something to do with the acoustics. Except that
he was suddenly aware of smiles, too. The next question had to do with
possible consultation with Russia on the matter of the coming space
invasion.

Senator Crane agreed that such consultation should be made and then
retired hastily into seclusion. A touch of panic hit him. He felt like a
man who was far out in the water without a boat, with the closest land a
few hundred feet straight down. Good God! Had he miscalculated? Of
course not. He had only to await the verdict of the nation's top
newspapers before proceeding with the publicity program that might well
make him presidential timber.

* * * * *

John Dennis, for the first time since Rhoda had known him, seemed
nervous. He kept licking his lips and shifting his eyes from Rhoda to
Frank Corson.

Frank Corson sat quietly, keeping his thoughts to himself. Rhoda crossed
to the liquor cabinet and poured a double Scotch. She went to the sofa
and sat down a little uncertainly.

"I guess you two haven't met. John, this is Frank Corson."

John Dennis paid no attention. He walked to the sofa, sat down, and took
a sheaf of notes from his jacket pocket.

"I've known Mr. Dennis for quite some time," Frank commented wryly.

"Be quiet."

John Dennis' tone was neither hostile nor friendly. They were the words
of a person whose mind was on other things. They watched him as his eyes
scanned the notes.

He appeared to be memorizing them.

The air became somewhat electric, the silence so deep it seemed to
scream. Rhoda looked across at Frank Corson. Frank's expression was
empty, as though he'd suffered some traumatic emotional blow and was
struggling to recover.

John Dennis s