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set down at a distance from the apparatus's location . . .

Oh!"

"I think you understand what I'm referring to to," Father Ramón said,

pleased. "The trick I mentioned works after this fashion, then. The

corruptible Licentiates accept payment secretly from clients who wish to

witness the victory of the Armada, or the Coliseum games, or the Battle

of the Guinea Coast, or the disgusting acts in the temples of Egypt --

or whatever -- and then plan an innocent field-trip, which is approved

as routine by our brother Red Bear. The trip is always to a more distant

time than their real destination. They then collect their clients from

a time and place when the latter are unobserved, deliver them where they

want to be, continue to conduct their fieldword further back, and rejoin

their clients on the way back to the present -- where, naturally, they

replace them at the very second of their departure. Put so elaborately, it

seems complicated; in effect, it can be devilishly simple. Who can tell,

for instance, from which direction a traveller through time is arriving?"

"And the people are using the Society's own time apparatus for this --

this knavery ?" Don Miguel's mind was reeling with the impact of the

Jesuit's revelation.

"They would hardly dare to construct illicit apparatus of their own,

easy though that might be. And why should they, anyhow? This had been

going on for well over a year before we realised."

"Had -- had many of us been tempted to take bribes?"

The Jesuit hesitated. Finally he said in a gruff tone, "More than

thirty Licentiates are under investigation because their incomes are

disproportionately high."

"Thirty!" Don Miguel's dismay registered in his voice. The Prince,

finding that his pipe had gone out, felt for means to relight it and

spoke up gloomily.

"It wouldn't be so bad if all that was involved were -- uh -- unofficial

observation . I mean, I've taken my father on the odd trip myself,

without any harm being done."

"But that's not quite the same thing," Don Miguel said slowly. The Prince

chuckled.

"Yes, kings get away with a good deal! But as I've often been told by

Father Ramón -- very rightly -- divine law doesn't recognize royalty

as something special. I know that. The people we're talking about,

unfortunately, seem not to. It seems that they've allowed some of these

illegal travellers to bring back souvenirs of their trip."

Father Ramón nodded. "Of which this great golden mask is presumably one."

A chill passed down Don Miguel's spine. He said, "Is there then a --

a regular trade in such contraband? Why, the implications are

incalculable!"

"True," confirmed Father Ramón. "Luckily, however, this is as yet the

largest single item we've run across; the remainder have been intrinsically

valueless, mere curios." He leaned back and set his fingertips together,

elbows on the arms of his chair.

"Were it nothing more than household garbage, though, we would still need

to be worried about the importation of anything we hadn't licensed. Our

rules are specific and strict: we import only items we can establish as

having disappeared from their own day -- treasure buried by someone who

died without divulging his secret, for example, or something mentioned

in contemporary annals as having been lost without trace. This rule is of

course not entirely reliable, since we cannot be sure that some of these

'lost' items were not in fact removed by future intervention. However, we

must trust in the divine plan for the universe." He gave a skeletal smile.

"The removal of something like this mask," Don Miguel ventured, "must

inevitably have dangerous consequences . . . ?" He gestured towards

it. "The mass alone is enormous!'

"Oh, it may turn out that the mask is recorded as having been melted

down, so that the loss of simple mass -- even in the form of gold --

could pass unnoticed. I'm praying to that end, for it would offer the

simplest solution. What is truly