"It was a lucky accident." Amenth looked terrified. "I just read the print—"
"And did what seemed logical." Statement, then a very quiet question. "What happened to your accent?"
The little man looked blank.
Vogel took a slow deep breath. "I've got a material planning job open," he said tightly. "Three-fifty to start. Interested?"
For a moment he thought Amenth would lick his hand.
The little man took to planning sheets like a duck to water. He pored feverishly over blueprints, turning out travelers in a steady flood.
Vogel watched him. He went over to Personnel, requested Amenth's employment application, read it and scowled. It was a masterpiece of anonymity. Birthplace: New York. Former Occupation: Laborer. Hobbies: None. He memorized Amenth's address and returned the application.
Vogel always ate lunch in the office with his expediters. That noon two of them got into an argument about the planets.
"I say there is life on Mars," Pete Stone insisted stubbornly. "When the polar ice cap melts, the water runs along the canals and traces of green from growing vegetation can be spotted."
"Which proves nothing," Harvey Lamb yawned. Lamb was chief expediter. "Man couldn't live there, anyway. There's not enough oxygen."