e logically than seventy per cent of the people
who were legally entitled to vote. Ray listened seriously, and proved
Prestonby's confidence justified by nodding.

"Frame-up," he said succinctly. "Stinks like a glue factory of a
put-up job. Something's going to happen to Russ Latterman, one of
these days."

"I think you'd better let Frank Cardon take care of him, Ray,"
Prestonby advised. "I think there are more angles to this than he told
me. Now, I'm going over to the store. Somebody's got to stay with
Claire. I want you to stay here, in this room. If anybody sends you
any message supposed to be from me, just ignore it. It'll be a trap.
If I want to get in touch with you, I'll call you, with vision-image."

"Mean somebody might try to kidnap me, or Claire, to force the Senator
to withdraw, or something?" Ray asked, his eyes widening.

"You catch on quickly, Ray," Prestonby commended him. "Doug, you stay
with Ray till I get back. Don't let him out of your sight for an
instant. At noon, have Miss Collins get lunches for both of you sent
up; if I'm not back by fifteen-hundred, take him to his home, and stay
with him there."

* * * * *

[Illustration:]

For half an hour, Frank Cardon made a flying tour of
Radical-Socialist borough headquarters. Even at the Manhattan
headquarters, which he visited immediately after his talk with
Prestonby, the news had already gotten out. The atmosphere of
optimistic triumph which had undoubtedly followed Mongery's telecast
and his report on the Trotter Poll, had evaporated. The Literate
clerical help was gathered in a tight knot, obviously a little
worried, and just as obviously enjoying the reaction. In smaller and
constantly changing groups, the volunteers, the paid helpers, the
dirt-squirters, the goon gangs, gathered, talking in worried or
frightened or angry voices. When Cardon entered and was recognized,
there was a concerted movement toward him. His two regular bodyguards,
both on leave from the Literate storm troops, moved quickly to range
themselves on either side of him. With a gesture, he halted the
others.

"Hold it!" he called. "I know what you're worried about. I was there
when it happened, and saw everything."

He paused, to let them assimilate that, and continued: "Now get this, all
of you! Our boss, and--_if he lives_--our next senator, was the victim of
a deliberate murder attempt, by Literate First Class Bayne, who threw out
hi