XVII.
In the lanee's apartments, Guy sat down to think. It was morning, breakfast was over, and Guy had enjoyed a full night of deep and honest sleep. He had analyzed things to his satisfaction right up to the next move, and that troubled him.
There was no doubting Thomakein's statements concerning the need for masquerade, though Guy wondered whether it wasn't slightly off color. But Thomakein was of Ertene, and should know the temper of the Ertinians better than any Terran. Certainly there was no doubting Thomakein's ideals. And as for his friendship—that was well established.
But Thomakein was a little glib in expecting a rank outsider to come in and masquerade as a Public figure. It would be hard enough to act as a mere citizen with no popularity, let alone a rising, popular, and well-balanced governor of a planet.
He fingered the book of Elanane's friends and their descriptions and habits, and despaired of ever being able to call them by name, much less knowing them well enough to discuss their favorite subjects with them. It was a heavy volume, and Guy knew that Elanane was very much loved by his people.
Habit set in at this point, and Guy opened his little kit to shave before he recalled the depilatory that Thomakein gave him. Shaving, for Guy Maynard, was over forever since his trial of the rather tingling unguent that morning.
But—beside his razor was the partly-assembled thought-beam instrument. Guy laughed aloud.
This would put him in the possession of anything that was needed. And Guy grinned again. This was his secret. Let Thomakein think that he was really brilliant. He'd use the thought-beam gadget for himself, and use it for the best. Besides, letting knowledge of the thought-beam instrument out would be as dangerous for Guy on Ertene as it would have been on Terra. No one alive, save Guy, knew of the instrument. Its inventors were dead and gone and every instrument of its kind a smoking mass of burned components. For his own protection, he would keep this one secret.
He snorted in derision. Would he never finish having secrets to keep? Was his life to continue with one important phase hidden from the world? Would he never be free?
Or, came the comforting thought, do all men have something hidden from their fellows?