"And as for you, DuQuesne," turning again to the prisoner, "for your own good I'd advise you to believe that I'm not talking just to make a noise. This isn't a threat, it's a promise—get me?"
"You couldn't do it, Seaton, you're too—" Their eyes were still locked, but into DuQuesne's there had crept a doubt. "Why, I believe you would!" he exclaimed.
"I'll tell the cockeyed universe I will!" Seaton barked. "Last chance! Yes or no?"
"Yes." DuQuesne knew when to back down. "You win—temporarily at least," he could not help adding.
The projection went out and the required orders were given. Sunlight, moonlight, and starlight again bathed the world in wonted fashion. DuQuesne sat at ease in a cushioned chair, smoking Crane's cigarettes; Seaton stood scowling blackly, hands jammed deep into pockets, addressing the jury of Norlaminians.
"You see what a jam I'm in?" he complained. "I could be arrested for what I think of that bird. He ought to be killed, but I can't do it unless he gives me about half an excuse, and he's darn careful not to do that. So what?"
"The man has a really excellent brain, but it is slightly warped," Drasnik offered. "I do not believe, however, that it is beyond repair. It may well be that a series of mental operations might make of him a worth-while member of society."
"I doubt it." Seaton still scowled. "He'd never be satisfied unless he was all three rings of the circus. Being a big shot isn't enough—he's got to be the whole works, a regular Poo-Bah. He's naturally antisocial—he would always be making trouble and would never fit into a really civilized world. He has got a wonderful brain; but he isn't human—Say, that gives me an idea!" His corrugated brow smoothed magically, his boiling rage was forgotten.
"DuQuesne, how would you like to become a pure intellect? A bodiless intelligence, immaterial and immortal, pursuing pure knowledge and pure power throughout all cosmos and all time, in company with seven other such entities?"