"It comes to this, then," said Alec. "You mean to go and mingle with the enemy, and try to discover weak spots in 'em, eh?"
"I don't see any other way to begin. We've been scratching for a plan ever since we first heard of the usurpers; and nobody's come up with one, for the good reason that we have nothing to go on. Oh, granted we know we can kill their worldly bodies and send them home. But I hardly think we're going to do nothing but roam the countryside killing off puppets for the next thirty years."
"Remember what Jerry told me—that once one of them was sent back to his own dimension, he could evidently still communicate with those who were left here? That the aliens who're attached to human bodies exist in both dimensions equally?"
"Yes, Alec, I was thinking of that a few minutes ago. It means that under no circumstances can I let any one of them discover I can see them; for even if I killed him here, he could go around his silver-lined dimension telling all his pals about me. It means working in the dark, from behind, anonymously. It means I've got to be circumspect as Satan. We all have to be circumspect."
"Beg pardon, sir," put in Johnson, "but when do the rest of us have a try at warping our eyeballs?"
"You don't, Sergeant," I said flatly.
"What d'you mean, we don't?" cried Alec. "Of course we do."
"No, son, not for a while, anyhow. It's a hundred to one, or a million, more likely, to one, that we couldn't duplicate the exact injuries again. We can't blind anyone else now. One of us seeing them may be enough—or if he isn't, then half a dozen might not be any better."
"I think Will's right," said Marion suddenly. She lit a cigarette while we waited. "I think we mustn't press our luck too far. At least we should wait until we have a plan. I think—I really think one will be enough."
"Why?"