And DalNalten was very much unlike his usual equable self. He was glum and unhappy; so much so that it took much urging to make him report at all.
"We have, as you know, put our best operatives to work on the inter-planetary lines," he said finally, half sullenly. "We have secured quite a little data. The accumulating facts, however, point more and more definitely toward an utterly preposterous conclusion. Can you think of any valid reason why the exports and imports of thionite between Tellus and Mars, Mars and Venus, and Venus and Tellus, should all be exactly equal to each other?"
"What!"
"Precisely. That is why Knobos and I are not yet ready to present even a preliminary report."
Then Jill. "I can't prove it, any more than I could before, but I'm pretty sure that Morgan is the Boss. I have drawn every picture I can think of with Isaacson in the driver's seat, but none of them fit?" She paused, questioningly.
"I am already reconciled to adopting that view; at least as a working hypothesis. Go ahead."
"The fact seems to be that Morgan has always had all the left-wingers of the Nationalists under his thumb. Now he and his man Friday, Representative Flierce, are wooing all the radicals and so-called liberals on our side of both Senate and House—a new technique for him—and they're offering plenty of the right kind of bait. He has the commentators guessing, but there's no doubt whatever in my mind that he is aiming at next Election Day and our Galactic Council."
"And you and Dronvire are sitting idly by, doing nothing, of course?"
"Of course!" Jill giggled, but sobered quickly. "He's a smooth, smooth worker, Dad. We are organizing, of course, and putting out propaganda of our own, but there's so pitifully little that we can actually do—look and listen to this for a minute, and you'll see what I mean."
In her distant room Jill manipulated a reel and flipped a switch. A plate came to life, showing Morgan's big, sweating, passionately earnest face.