myself, Tuan Murphy. I am Ali-Tomas, of the House of
Singhalut, and my father the Sultan begs you to accept our poor
hospitality."

"Why, thank you," said Murphy. "This is a very pleasant surprise."

"If you will allow me to conduct you...." He turned to the inspector.
"Mr. Murphy's luggage to the palace."

* * * * *

Murphy accompanied Ali-Tomas into the outside light, fitting his own
quick step to the prince's feline saunter. This is coming it pretty
soft, he said to himself. I'll have a magnificent suite, with bowls of
fruit and gin pahits, not to mention two or three silken girls with skin
like rich cream bringing me towels in the shower.... Well, well, well,
it's not so bad working for _Know Your Universe!_ after all! I suppose I
ought to unlimber my camera....

Prince Ali-Tomas watched him with interest. "And what is the audience of
_Know Your Universe!_?"

"We call 'em 'participants'."

"Expressive. And how many participants do you serve?"

"Oh, the Bowdler Index rises and falls. We've got about two hundred
million screens, with five hundred million participants."

"Fascinating! And tell me--how do you record smells?"

Murphy displayed the odor recorder on the side of the camera, with its
gelatinous track which fixed the molecular design.

"And the odors recreated--they are like the originals?"

"Pretty close. Never exact, but none of the participants knows the
difference. Sometimes the synthetic odor is an improvement."

"Astounding!" murmured the prince.

"And sometimes ... Well, Carson Tenlake went out to get the
myrrh-blossoms on Venus. It was a hot day--as days usually are on
Venus--and a long climb. When the show was run off, there was more smell
of Carson than of flowers."

Prince Ali-Tomas laughed politely. "We turn through here."

They came out into a compound paved with red, green and white tiles.
Beneath the valley roof was a sinuous trough, full of haze and warmth
and golden light. As far in either direction as the eye could reach, the
hillsides were terraced, barred in various shades of green. Spattering
the valley floor were tall canvas pavilions, tents, booths, shelters.

"Naturally," said Prince Ali-Tomas, "we hope that you and your
participants will enjoy Singhalut. It is a truism that, in order to
import, we must export; we wish to encourage a pleasurable response to
the 'Made in Singhalut' tag on our _batiks_, carvings, lacquers."

They rolle