we've learned to expect of
your Corpsmen. A wonderful group!"

"Thanks." Hanlon did not want to explain anything, so let it go at that,
and the two talked companionably of many things as they moved naturally
about the ship. They listened for a while to a concert in the music
room, then played a few games of cards. Each time the diplomat tried to
ask questions, Hanlon side-stepped.

The SS man had seen Panek cautiously spying on them from time to time,
and when the two went in to dinner the thug took a seat nearby, but
where Abrams could not see him.

Hanlon had been probing Abrams' mind all this time, but had been unable
to get any clue as to a plot that might upset the peace of his world, or
the Federation. Hanlon realized the man was an intense patriot, and he
came to the conclusion that Abrams did not particularly like the Prime
Minister. But the "why" of that dislike eluded him.

The two were about finished with dinner and their coffee had been
served. Hanlon called his companion's attention to something behind him.
As the latter turned to look, Hanlon's hand flashed out and hovered an
instant over the other's cup.

A few moments later the Simonidean played his part to perfection. He
took a drink, then another, and almost before he had set his cup down,
gave a groan, and clutched at his stomach and throat.

He rose shakily, and tottered away heavily on the arm of an anxious
steward who had come running up.

Hanlon, although he rose quickly and made his face seem concerned and
sympathetic, resumed his seat and finished his coffee. When the steward
returned, he called him over, and seemed reassured when the latter
reported that Mr. Abrams had said it was apparently only an attack of
indigestion, to which he was prone, and that his man could take care of
him.

But the next day word ran about the ship that Abrams was very ill, and
not expected to live the day out.

Panek sauntered past where Hanlon was sitting, reading, and stopped to
ask for a light.

"Nice work, Pal, nice work," he whispered as he was lighting his cigaro.
"See me at the Bacchus."

But his thoughts, as Hanlon scanned them, were muttering viciously,
"I'll cut out his guts if he's planning to louse up 'his' plans, I'll
sure carve him!"

And a bit later, as Hanlon reviewed the entire episode, he thanked his
stars that Panek was a lot less than an intellectual giant. A brighter
man would have wondered about the source of Hanlon's knowledge