," Doak said quietly.

For long and silent seconds, Arnold glared at him. And then he said,
"All right. I'll get my report from Ryder--and your job. Now get out."

Fine, _great_! Hero Doak Parker, of Security. Lion bearder,
hair-splitter, cutter-of-his-own-throat, lover of a country lass. And
man without a future, it looked like now.

* * * * *

The dogs slobbered and watched, the gravel grated under his feet. The
great gates swung open and Doak took a deep breath of the warm clean
air. Why did he feel so free?

Martha was sitting on the front porch. She looked up and smiled as he
came near and he stooped to kiss her.

"Hey!" she said. "Watch it, city man." But she hadn't taken her lips
away for a few seconds.

From his jacket pocket he took the _Heritage Herald_ and tossed it in
her lap. She looked down at it for seconds, then up to read his face.
He said nothing.

"Last night," she said, "you got it. I missed it when I went upstairs,
last night, but I thought someone else might have taken it."

"_I_ took it--last night."

Her eyes searched his wonderingly but there was no evident tension in
her. Doak sat on the glider.

She said, "I was too forward to be believed this afternoon, perhaps?
Did you listen last night?"

"I listened. I'm from Security, Martha--or was. I'm resigning."

"Oh? To fight the good fight?"

He nodded. "But legally--or what is known as legally. Through the
pressure-group pattern. I know my way around Washington, Martha. I
think, in time and with the right people behind me, I think I
could--oh, hell!"

"Yes," she said. "Oh, hell! When you were swimming this afternoon we
could have got this, Doak. I told them to wait. I told them I thought
you had the makings of an honest man."

"Why?" He stared at her.

"I don't know why. Maybe your curly hair. I'm admitting nothing along
that line, not yet, Doak. I want to see what kind of fighter you are,
how much man you are."

"I wish I knew," he said quietly. "One thing I'm sure of, I'm going to
enjoy the battle."

"You're going to enjoy both battles," Martha said. "And probably win
both. But oh, the bastards we're going to have to fight."

He smiled and looked out at the shadowed lawn. This would be a place
for the historians, the _writing_ historians, Dubbinville, U.S.A. And
why should a man be happy, looking forward to so damned much trouble?

_Mr. Gault has just presented us with a wholly plau