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still predict success.”
        Herb Moore slid lithely to his feet as Cartwright and Wakeman entered the lounge.
    “Sit down,” Cartwright said. “I’ll talk to you here.”
    Moore remained standing. “I won’t take up much of your time, Mr. Cartwright. I know you’ve got plenty to do.”
    Wakeman grunted sourly.
    “What do you want?” Cartwright demanded.
    “Let’s put it this way. You’re in. Verrick is out. You hold the supreme position in the system. Right?”
    “His strategy,” Wakeman said thoughtfully, “is to convince you you’re an amateur. That much we can get. He wants you to think you’re a sort of janitor sitting in the boss’ chair while he’s out closing some big deal.”
    Moore began pacing around, cheeks flushed with excitement, gesturing vividly, highly animated by the flow of words beginning to pour out of his mouth. “Reese Verrick was Quizmaster ten years. He was Challenged daily and he met every Challenge. Essentially, Verrick is a skilled leader. He operated this job with more knowledge and ability than all the Quizmasters before him put together.”
    “Except McRae,” Shaeffer pointed out, as he entered the lounge. “Don’t forget him.” He warmed up quickly. “Good old McRae.”
    Cartwright felt sick at his stomach. He threw himself down in one of the soft chairs and lay wearily back as it adjusted to his weight and posture. The argument continued without him; the rapid words that flowed between the two teeps and Verrick’s bright young man were remote and dreamlike. He tried to concentrate on the reasonings, but they didn’t appear to concern him.
    In many ways Herb Moore was right. He
had
blundered into somebody else’s office, position, and problems. He wondered vaguely where the ship was. Unless something had gone wrong it would soon be heading out toward Mars and the asteroid belt. Hadn’t customs fallen behind already? He examined his watch. The ship was gaining velocity at this very moment.
    Moore’s sharp voice brought him back. He sat up straight and opened his eyes. “All right!” Moore was saying excitedly.
    “The word’s gone out on the ipvic. The Convention will probably be held at the Westinghouse Hill; there’s more hotel space there.”
    “Yes,” Wakeman was saying tightly. “That’s the usual place for the murderers to collect. There’s plenty of rooms at low rates.”
    Wakeman and Moore were discussing the Challenge Convention.
    Cartwright got unsteadily to his feet. “I want to talk to Moore. You two clear out of here. Go someplace else.”
    The teeps conferred silently, then moved toward the door. “Be careful,” Wakeman warned him. “You’ve had a lot of emotional shocks today. Your thalamic index is too high.”
    Cartwright closed the door after them and turned to face Moore. “Now we can get this settled once and for all.”
    Moore smiled confidently. “Anything you say, Mr. Cartwright. You’re the boss.”
    “I’m not your boss.”
    “No, that’s so. A few of us stayed loyal to Reese. A few of us didn’t let him down.”
    “You must think a lot of him.”
    Moore’s expression showed that he did. “Reese Verrick is a big man, Mr. Cartwright. He’s done a lot of big things. He works on a vast scale.” He glowed happily. “He’s fully rational.”
    “What do you want me to do? Give him back his position?”Cartwright heard his own voice waver with emotion. “I’m not giving this up. I don’t care how irrational this is. I’m here and I’m staying here. You can’t intimidate me! You can’t laugh me out!”
    His voice echoed; he was shouting. He forced himself to calm down. Herb Moore smiled brightly and basked in his own warmth.
    He’s young enough to be my son, Cartwright found himself thinking. He can’t be over thirty, and I’m sixty-three. He’s just a boy, a child prodigy. Cartwright tried to keep his hands from shaking, but he couldn’t. He was excited, too excited. He could hardly speak. He was all