mind, I'll
write it," I amended disgustedly. "And you can carry the message."
Lesser echelons do not relish the task of repeating uncomplimentary
words verbatim to a superior. Not usually.

I punched Sara's button on my intercom.

"After all the exposure out there to the Swami," I said, "if you're
still with us on this crass, materialistic plane, will you bring your
book?"

"My astral self has been hovering over you, guarding you, every minute,"
Sara answered dreamily.

"Can it take shorthand?" I asked dryly.

"Maybe I'd better come in," she replied.

When she came through the door the lieutenant gave her one appreciative
glance, then returned to his aloof pedestal of indifference. Obviously
his pattern was to stand in majestic splendor and allow the girls to
fawn somewhere down near his shoes. These lads with a glamour boy
complex almost always gravitate toward some occupation which will
require them to wear a uniform. Sara catalogued him as quickly as I did,
and seemed unimpressed. But you never can tell about a woman; the
smartest of them will fall for the most transparent poses.

"General Sanfordwaithe, dear sir," I began as she sat down at one corner
of my desk and flipped open her book. "It takes more than a towel
wrapped around the head and some mutterings about infinity to get
poltergeist effects. So I am returning your phony Swami to you with my
compliments--"

"Beg your pardon, sir," the lieutenant interrupted, and there was a
certain note of suppressed triumph in his voice. "In case you rejected
our applicant for the poltergeist job you have in mind, I was to hand
you this." He undid a lovingly polished button of his tunic, slipped his
hand beneath the cloth and pulled forth a long, sealed envelope.

I took it from him and noted the three sealing-wax imprints on the flap.
From being carried so close to his heart for so long, the envelope was
slightly less crisp than when he had received it. I slipped my letter
opener in under the side flap, and gently extracted the letter without,
in anyway, disturbing the wax seals which were to have guaranteed its
privacy. There wasn't any point in my doing it, of course, except to
demonstrate to the lieutenant that I considered the whole deal as a
silly piece of cloak and dagger stuff.

After the general formalities, the letter was brief: "Dear Mr. Kennedy:
We already know the Swami is a phony, but our people have been convinced
that in spite of this there ar