The two men faced one another, one the smooth, tawny lion, the other the snarling wolf.
"You've built up hatred, Stutsman,” Chambers said. “You are the most hated man in the Solar System. And because of you, they hate me. That wasn't my idea. I needed you because I needed an iron fist, but I needed it to use judiciously. And you have been ruthless. You've used force when conciliation was necessary."
Stutsman sneered openly. “Still that old dream of a benevolent dictatorship. Still figuring yourself a little bronze god to be set up in every household. A dictatorship can't be run that way. You have to let them know you're boss."
Chambers was calm again. “Argument won't do us any good now. The damage is done. Revolt is flaming through all the worlds. We have to do something."
He looked at Craven, who was slouched in a chair beside the desk across which he and Stutsman faced each other.
"Can you help us, doctor?” he asked.
Craven shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said acidly. “If I could only be left to my work undisturbed, instead of being dragged into these stupid conferences, I might be able to do something."
"You already have, haven't you?” asked Chambers.
"Very little. I've been able to blank out the televisor that Manning and Page are using, but that is all."
"Do you have any idea where Manning and Page are?"