"Well, I don't know...."
"I do," said Mrs. Delacourt. "This doesn't solve anything as far as I'm concerned. We still have all the same problems."
"You're so right," said Channing, entering the room on the double. "Sorry I'm late, everyone."
State stared Qui Dor down. "I thought you said—"
"I don't understand it," Qui Dor protested.
"They tried to have me killed," Channing said quite matter-of-factly, as if it weren't very important to him. "Because I was real, I couldn't be willed out of existence. This ties the whole thing up, boss. Qui Dor and the Denebian Ambassador are working together in a conspiracy to—"
"Your whole case," Qui Dor interrupted him, "rests on one simple fact. You claim we created a double for you because we wanted a spy, as you put it—an informant would be better—to keep us abreast of all diplomatic developments here. Well, I will admit it. You are the real Channing and this other man is your copy."
The copy moaned softly. Channing felt sorry for him.
"But," Qui Dor went on, "the copy was never created for that purpose, and I can prove it. Mr. Secretary, will you summon the witness I have waiting?"
State nodded, glared at Channing, opened a door. In walked Ellen. "Darling," she murmured, running into Channing's arms. "I'm ready to admit I was wrong. I don't want Stephanie. I don't want your copy. I want you."