more we would be able to do. Thus I confidently trust that with our
nation's interest forever foremost in your minds you will support the
cause of The Brain."

There had been thunderous applause; at Oona's shouted order even Gog and
Magog did some mighty clapping of their steely hands to the delight of
the party.

And now that it was all over with and the reaction had begun to set in
Scriven asked: "Do you really think we put the idea over to them?"

"With this group? One hundred percent," Oona reassured him. "What do you
think, Lee?"

Lee nursed himself out of his settee, every bone in his gaunt frame now
was aching with weariness. "I think," he said hoarsely, "It was very
convincing, as far as those people are concerned. I think I'm too tired
to think. I think I better go now."

"Was there anything the matter with Lee?" Scriven asked after he'd gone.

"No, I guess not. Why?"

"He acted sort of queer with that silver dollar; shouldn't have done it.
Almost spoiled the show."

"He's been under a strain; we all were a little daffy by that time."

Scriven nodded and as he did his eyelids closed. They remained closed.
Staring at him for a moment, Oona thought that in a stupor of exhaustion
his features showed a strange similarity to a contented tiger dreaming
of the blood he's drawn in a successful hunt.

CHAPTER VII

Lee's Journal:

Cephalon Ariz. Nov. 21, 1 a.m.

I've kept away now from the Pineal Gland for three nights in
succession. I know from experience how very important it is to approach
that tempestuous personality, The Brain, in a state of mental calm and
equilibrium. But then all those things which went "bump" in that
phantastic night before last had me completely thrown out of gear:

Oona, her holding out on me, her mysterious reasons why she won't marry
me ... I cannot get that out of my head. Preposterous as this may be, I
think she likes me a great deal. I'm convinced, for instance, that she
won't tell Scriven what I told her about The Brain....

Then, Scriven's character; that's another enigma to me. I didn't like
his speech that night and I didn't like his whole attitude. I feel as if
against my will I were drawn into some sort of a conspiracy. It's
probably inevitable that the scientist in his defense against
politicians turns cynic. Scriven, no doubt, thinks that all is fair in
his battle for The Brain and that the end justifies the means.

But ultimately this would mean the ov