"Mr. Lesquallan, the matter concerns only a minor aspect of policy," said Esrov placatingly.
"Minor aspect of policy, hell! It concerns business. Look what happened at Luna. And you let us get publicly involved in it. Such matters must never be handled openly."
Esrov did not answer.
"Did you send such a message, Rovance?" Rovance shook his head. Lesquallan turned to Neinfort-Whritings. "Did you?"
"No, Lesquallan." Neinfort-Whritings gently pulled a Special Message form from beneath Esrov's folded hands as they lay on the gleaming conference table.
Lesquallan swung back to Esrov. "Did you send it?"
Esrov looked down at his folded hands. At last he said quietly: "Yes, I sent a message to the Senator—in our mutual interests."
"Was it your own idea? Or did someone else suggest it?"
"The basic thought came from a most unexpected source. It was, we might say, one of those happy breaks of industry. The dispatcher at Acme had the sense to cooperate with us. He gave me certain otherwise unavailable information, and—"
"What was his name?"