victims in that case," Heidel said. "Forty-eight honorable
colonists, sanctioned by us to legally marry any couple on the planet,
and sent out over the country to abolish the horrible free-love
situation."

"Forty-eight justices of the peace dead as pickerels," Forbes said.

"Do you happen to remember _that_ note of apology?" Heidel asked, a
slight edge in his voice. He examined Forbes' eyes.

"Matter of fact, yes," said Forbes, returning Heidel's stare steadily.
"'You love your way, we'll love ours.' Terribly caustic, what?"

"Terribly," said Heidel. "Although that too is neither here nor there.
The point again, no one except the six of us right here knew what those
forty-eight men were sent out to do."

Heidel straightened in his chair. The slow grating voice of Forbes had
taken some of the sharpness out of the situation. He wanted to hold
their attention minutely, so that when he was ready, the dramatics of
his action would be tense and telling.

"There is no use," he said, "in going into the details of the other
incidents. You remember them. When we tried to install a free press, the
Sensible Art galleries, I-Am-A-Martian Day, wrestling, and all the
rest."

"I remember the wrestling business awfully well," said Forbes. "Martians
drove a wrestler through the street in a yellow jetmobile. Had flowers
around his neck and a crown on his head. He was dead, of course.
Stuffed, I think...."

"All right," snapped Heidel. "Each one of our efforts to offer these
people a chance to benefit from our culture was snapped off at the bud.
And only a leak in the Superior Council could have caused it. It is a
simple matter of deduction. There is one of us, here tonight, who is
responsible. And I am going to expose him." Heidel's voice was a low
vibrant sound that echoed in the large dining room.

The five men waited. Forbes, his long arms crossed. Sadler, his eyes on
his fingernails. Meehan, blinking placidly. Clarke, twirling his thumbs.
Locke, examining his cigarette.

"Kessit!" Heidel called.

A gray-haired man in a black butler's coat appeared.

"We'll have our wine now," Heidel said. There was a slight quirk in his
mouth, so that his teeth showed between his lips. The butler moved
methodically from place to place, pouring wine from a silver decanter.

"Now then, Kessit," Heidel said, when the butler had finished, "would
you be kind enough to fetch me that little pistol from the mantel over
there?" He smiled outw