ven be hurt--by any physical,
chemical, or nuclear force. Should he stay with the planetoid to its
end, and thus perforce return to Eddore with no material evidence
whatever? He would not. Too much remained undone. Any report based upon
his present information could be neither complete nor conclusive, and
reports submitted by Gharlane of Eddore to the coldly cynical and
ruthlessly analytical innermost Circle had always been and always would
be both.

It was a fact that there existed at least one non-Eddorian mind which
was the equal of his own. If one, there would be a race of such minds.
The thought was galling; but to deny the existence of a fact would be
the essence of stupidity. Since power of mind was a function of time,
that race must be of approximately the same age as his own. Therefore
the Eddorian Information Center, which by the inference of its
completeness denied the existence of such a race, was wrong. It was not
complete.

Why was it not complete? The only possible reason for two such races
remaining unaware of the existence of each other would be the deliberate
intent of one of them. Therefore, at some time in the past, the two
races had been in contact for at least an instant of time. All Eddorian
knowledge of that meeting had been suppressed and no more contacts had
been allowed to occur.

The conclusion reached by Gharlane was a disturbing thing indeed; but,
being an Eddorian, he faced it squarely. He did not have to wonder how
such a suppression could have been accomplished--he knew. He also knew
that his own mind contained everything known to his every ancestor since
the first Eddorian was: the probability was exceedingly great that if
any such contact had ever been made his mind would still contain at
least some information concerning it, however carefully suppressed that
knowledge had been.

He thought. Back ... back ... farther back ... farther still....

And as he thought, an interfering force began to pluck at him; as though
palpable tongs were pulling out of line the mental probe with which he
was exploring the hitherto unplumbed recesses of his mind.

"Ah ... so you do not want me to remember?" Roger asked aloud, with no
change in any lineament of his hard, gray face. "I wonder ... do you
really believe that you can keep me from remembering? I must abandon
this search for the moment, but rest assured that I shall finish it very
shortly."

* * * * *

"