r. We'll have to have it back
immediately, all of it."

"I see, Dr. Ortheris." The old instrument maker looked worried. "But I'm
afraid the apparatus has already gone to the workroom. Mr. Stephenson has
it now, and I can't get in touch with him at present. If the mistake can
be corrected, what do you want done?"

"Just hold it; I'll call or send for it."

She blanked the screen. Old Johnson, the chief data synthesist, tried to
detain her with some question.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson. I can't stop now. I have to go over to Company
House right away."

* * * * *

The suite at the Hotel Mallory was crowded when Jack Holloway returned
with Gerd van Riebeek; it was noisy with voices, and the ventilators were
laboring to get rid of the tobacco smoke. Gus Brannhard, Ben Rainsford and
Baby Fuzzy were meeting the press.

"Oh, Mr. Holloway!" somebody shouted as he entered. "Have you found them
yet?"

"No; we've been all over Science Center from top to bottom. We know they
went down a few floors from where they'd been caged, but that's all. I
don't think they could have gotten outside; the only exit on the ground
level's through a vestibule where a Company policeman was on duty, and
there's no way for them to have climbed down from any of the terraces or
landing stages."

"Well, Mr. Holloway, I hate to suggest this," somebody else said, "but
have you eliminated the possibility that they may have hidden in a trash
bin and been dumped into the mass-energy converter?"

"We thought of that. The converter's underground, in a vault that can be
entered only by one door, and that was locked. No trash was disposed of
between the time they were brought there and the time the search started,
and everything that's been sent to the converter since has been checked
piece by piece."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Holloway, and I know that everybody
hearing this will be glad, too. I take it you've not given up looking for
them?"

"Are we on the air now? No, I have not; I'm staying here in Mallorysport
until I either find them or am convinced that they aren't in the city. And
I am offering a reward of two thousand sols apiece for their return to me.
If you'll wait a moment, I'll have descriptions ready for you...."

* * * * *

Victor Grego unstoppered the refrigerated cocktail jug. "More?" he asked
Leslie Coombes.

"Yes, thank you." Coombes held his glass until it