"Mr. Ambassador—both of you—I'm terribly sorry about all this. If I can use my good offices in any manner whatever to help you, feel perfectly free to—"
"One more thing," Channing said. "One thing before I go."
"Yes?"
"In a moment." He frowned. He scratched his head. He sensed that some vital cog had been slipped from his memory and all the little pieces which remained had fallen apart chaotically. "I guess I'll go," he said slowly. "I don't remember." He edged toward the door, Ellen following him.
"I don't care who's fired," Mrs. Delacourt told anyone who would listen. "Something has got to be done about the Targoffians."
Nick was going to Targoff to do something about it, Channing thought dreamily. No, he was going to Deneb, via Targoff. Channing was supposed to call him.
"Oh, yes," he said. "I've got to make a call to Deneb."
"Deneb?" Sarchix thumped his tail.
"The Earth Embassy there. Our explorer, Nicholson." While State protested and Mrs. Delacourt went on complaining, Channing placed the call on their sub-space tie-line. If anyone could get rid of Qui Dor and his copies, it was Nick. But strangely, Channing had thought he had something concrete to go on. Well, Nick might help.