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so on for two hours, while Roger traced circles on the tablecloth with his spoon.
    “Regarding one choice there can be no argument,” declared Dame Isabel. “Our conductor must be Sir Henry Rixon! It would be impossible to proceed without him.”
    Roger looked up from the tablecloth, wondering if by some means he could spirit Sir Henry Rixon away for six months, until his aunt lost interest in this fantastically expensive junket.
    Bernard Bickel frowned thoughtfully. “Sir Henry Rixon — or Siebert Holgeness.”
    “Of course! I neglected him,” admitted Dame Isabel, “and there’s that marvelous young Jarvis Akers.” Roger returned his attention to the tablecloth. Sir Henry Rixon he might contrive to imprison on a remote island, but hardly half a dozen others.
    Dame Isabel finally looked around at Roger. “And now, Roger, what in the world will we do with you?”
    “Well,” said Roger, “I’m almost inclined to make the trip with the Phoebus .”
    Dame Isabel gave her head a curt shake. “Impossible, Roger. Space is at a premium, as I told your friend Miss Roswyn today.”
    Roger had expected no more. “I think you should at least give Miss Roswyn an audition. She’s highly talented.”
    “Doubtless. Just who is this young woman, Roger? What is your connection with her?”
    “No connection whatever. I just happened to know she is musically competent and —”
    “Please, Roger, do not talk of what you do not understand.”

     
    The following day Roger once again lunched with Madoc Roswyn. She seemed to enjoy his company and as they left the restaurant she slipped her hand into his.
    In his air-car they flew out over the ocean. Roger said abruptly, “I’ve only known you two days, but I feel as if it’s been — well, to be honest, two days.”
    Madoc Roswyn laughed. “I like you, Roger. You’re so relaxing. So undemanding … I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”
    Roger swallowed hard, and made a gallant sacrifice. “The hell with the space-tour. I’d rather stay with you. In fact — let’s get married!”
    Madoc Roswyn sadly shook her head. “If you missed this marvelous expedition on my account, you’d start resenting me. Not right away perhaps — but you’d get restless, and presently you’d grow to hate me. I’ve seen it happen to other people … I’ll never stand in your way. You go with the tour, and I’ll keep on as before.”
    “If only Aunt Isabel wasn’t such an obdurate old creature!” exclaimed Roger. “We could both go!”
    “Oh Roger! Wouldn’t that be wonderful! But it won’t happen.”
    “It can! And it will! Just leave it to me!”
    “Oh Roger — I’m so excited!” She threw her arms around Roger’s neck and kissed him. Roger put the air-car on automatic, but Madoc Roswyn moved across the seat. “Roger, behave yourself. You’re the most hot-blooded thing …”
    “You will marry me?”
    Madoc Roswyn considered with wryly pursed mouth. “Not if we’re going to be separated right away.”
    Roger flung his arms in the air. “What’s a little space-trip? I’ll stay home!”
    “Now, Roger, we’ve been all over this before.”
    “True. I forgot. Then we’ll both make the trip on the Phoebus .”
    Madoc Roswyn smiled wistfully. “Your aunt was fairly definite in this regard.”
    “Leave it to me,” said Roger. “I know just how to handle the old crock.”

     
    Dame Isabel was in a good mood. Sir Henry Rixon, Andrei Szinc, and Ephraim Zerner the great Wagnerian basso had all agreed to join the Phoebus company, and there should now be no trouble enlisting other musicians of equal prestige.
    Roger listened from the side of the room as Sir Henry outlined his thoughts on the orchestra. “We’ll be forced to compromise here and there, but it’s naturally absurd to contemplate a hundred and twenty piece orchestra. And, as you know, I consider the smaller orchestra more versatile, and capable of more bite. So with your approval, I will select