Mr. Fordyce strolled back to his hotel and Lensman Kinnison directed a thought at Vice-Admiral Gerrond.
"Better fake up some kind of an excuse for having a couple of guards or policemen in front of Count Avondrin's town house at eight twenty-five this morning. The countess is going to have a brainstorm."
"What have ... what will she do?" Gerrond mastered his emotions sufficiently to keep from swearing.
"Nothing much. Scream a bit, rush out of doors half dressed, and fight anything and everybody that touches her. Warn the officers that she'll kick, scratch, and bite. There are plenty of signs of a prowler having been in her room, but if they can find him they're good—very good. She'll have all the signs and symptoms, even to the puncture, of having been given a shot in the arm of some brand-new drug, which the doctors won't be able to find or to identify. But there will be no question raised of insanity or of any other permanent damage—she'll be right as rain in a couple of months."
"Oh, that mind-ray machine of yours again, eh? And that's all you're going to do to her?"
"That's all. I can let her off easy and still be just, I think. She's helped me a lot. She'll be a good girl from now on, too; I've thrown a scare into her that will last her the rest of her life."
"Thanks, Gray Lensman! What else?"
"I'd like to have you at the Tellurian Ambassador's Ball day after tomorrow, if it's convenient."
"I've been planning on it, since it's on the 'must' list. Shall I bring anything or anyone special?"