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At last Mary spoke. "Bork-"
    "Yes, my dear?"
    "You've got to do something about this. You must stop it."
    "Stop it? You don't know what you're saying. I couldn't . . . and I would not if I could."
    "But you must. You must convince the Council. They're making a mistake, a tragic mistake. There is nothing to be gained by trying to coerce those poor people. There is no secret! "
    "What? You're getting excited, my dear. You're setting your judgment up against some of the best and wisest men on the planet. Believe me, we know what we are doing. We don't relish using harsh methods any more than you do, but it's for the general welfare. Look, I'm sorry I ever brought it up. Naturally you are soft and gentle and warmhearted and I love you for it. Why not marry me and not bother your head about matters of public policy?"
    "Marry you? Never!"
    "Aw, Mary-you're upset. Give me just one good reason why not?"
    "I'll tell you why! Because I am one of those people you want to persecute!"
    There was another pause. "Mary . . . you're not well."
    "Not well, am I? I am as well as a person can be at my age. Listen to me, you fool! I have grandsons twice your age. I was here when the First Prophet took over the country. I was here when Harriman launched the first Moon rocket. You weren't even a squalling brat-your grandparents hadn't even met, when I was a woman grown and married. And you stand there and glibly propose to push around, even to torture, me and my kind. Marry you? I'd rather marry one of my own grandchildren!"
    Lazarus shifted his weight and slid his right hand inside the flap of his kilt; he expected trouble at once. You can depend on a woman, he reflected, to blow her top at the wrong moment.
    He waited. Bork's answer was cool; the tones of the experienced man of authority replaced those of thwarted passion. "Take it easy, Mary. Sit down, I'll look after you. First I want you to take a sedative. Then I'll get the best psychotherapist in the city-in the whole country. You'll be all right."
    "Take your hands off me!"
    "Now, Mary . . ."
    Lazarus stepped out into the room and pointed at Vanning with his blaster. "This monkey giving you trouble, Sis?"
    Vanning jerked his head around. "Who are you?" he demanded indignantly. "What are you doing here?"
    Lazarus still addressed Mary. "Say the word, Sis, and I'll cut him into pieces small enough to hide."
    "No, Lazarus," she answered with her voice now under control. "Thanks just the same. Please put your gun away. I wouldn't want anything like that to happen."
    "Okay." Lazarus holstered the gun but let his hand rest on the grip.
    "Who are you?" repeated Vanning. "What's the meaning of this intrusion?"
    "I was just about to ask you that, Bud," Lazarus said mildly, "but we'll let it ride. I'm another one of those old Johnnies you're looking for . . . like Mary here."
    Vanning looked at him keenly. "I wonder-" he said.
    He looked back at Mary. "It can't be, it's preposterous. Still . . . it won't hurt to investigate your story. I've plenty to detain you on, in any event, I've never seen a clearer case of anti-social atavism." He moved toward the videophone.
    "Better get away from that phone, Bud," Lazarus said quickly, then added to Mary, "I won't touch my gun, Sis. I'll use my knife."
    Vanning stopped. "Very well," he said in annoyed tones, "put away that vibroblade. I won't call from here."
    "Look again, it ain't a vibroblade. It's steel. Messy."
    Vanning turned to Mary Sperling. "I'm leaving. If you are wise, you'll come with me." She shook her head. He looked annoyed, shrugged, and faced Lazarus Long. "As for you, sir, your primitive manners have led you into serious trouble. You will be arrested shortly."
    Lazarus glanced up at the ceiling shutters. "Reminds me of a patron in Venusburg who wanted to have me arrested."
    "Well?"
    "I've outlived him quite a piece."
    Vanning opened his mouth to answer-then turned suddenly and left so quickly that the outer door barely had time to clear the end