"I'm afraid I don't know what that is," he admitted.
Jackson examined him carefully. "Hm-m-m," he said slowly. "Interesting! Tell me, how long have you been ordering people around like this?"
Don spread his hands. "Why, I don't really know," he said. "You see, I——"
Jackson held up a hand, smiling. "Never mind. Do you always go around ... ah ... dressed like that?"
Don glanced down, then grinned. "I'm sorry, sir, but I was in something of a dither a while ago. Truth is, I forgot to dress after I——"
"Wait a minute." Again, Jackson held up a hand. "Start at the beginning. While you're giving me the story, I'll have some clothes brought in for you." He touched a button on his desk, then leaned back.
"All right," he said, "let's have it. First, of course, who are you?"
While Don was talking, an impassive aide brought an outfit for him. He slipped into the clothing as he finished his account.
"So," he concluded, "all we need to do now is to force a conclave and it's all over. From what Gorham told me, I'm pretty sure I can tear Stern apart myself." His eyes clouded.