“Good lad!” Duke Harald commented. “I guess they didn’t trace him.”
“You think, then, that your Sonotec was discovered?”
“And smashed. Well, I guess it served its purpose. I don’t suppose trying to plant another would be wise?”
“Most unwise.” Count Godfrey was emphatic.
“You’re probably right,” Duke Harald conceded. “But I would have liked to hear some more. However, we have something. Let’s pool our wits and see just what that something is.” Brief discussion found them in agreement on two points. That the rumor of a telepathic drug seemed now to have some sure foundation. And that Duke Harald would have to contrive to be present at the often mentioned but still mysterious “vigil.”
“But how?” Count Godfrey wondered.
“Oh, I’ve got a few things in my lock-box that may help.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, gadgets.” Duke Harald was deliberately vague. Then, as the old ambassador half-opened his mouth in protest, “No, I don’t know yet just what I’ll use, or how I’ll work it. And even if I did, you know my thoughts : share a plan in detail, and you’re psychologically committed to trying to make it work in just that way, even when the situation changes.” He yawned, and set the silvery wire to spinning through the erasing coils. Instinctively he wished to be rid of that piece of tangible evidence.
The nightly “one o’clock rain” was still misting gently down over the streets and towers of the city, when Duke Harald emerged from the embassy. The Terran weather machines, he thought, were marvels of efficiency. But their unvarying regularity made the climate seem a little dull to anyone born and bred on a more primitive, storm-tossed world. A closed three-wheeler bore the Arkadian nobleman home through streets temporarily deserted for the hour-long duration of the rain.