ternated between the pleasure of remembering Gail's gay
company and the gloom of understanding the complete implications of the
Colonel's clarifying lectures. Against the background of his remarks, I
could find myself appreciating the Ghopal-Klueng-Natalenko reasoning: the
only way to cut the Gordian knot was to have another Solar League
Ambassador killed.

And, whenever I could escape thinking about the fact that the next
Ambassador to be the clay pigeon was me, I found myself wondering if I
wanted the League to take over. Annexation, yes; New Texas customs would
be protected under a treaty of annexation. But the "justified conquest"
urged by Machiavelli, Jr.? No.

I was still struggling with the problem when we reached the Embassy
about 1700. Everyone was there, including Stonehenge, who had returned
two hours earlier with the good news that the fleet had moved into
position only sixty light-minutes off Capella IV. I had reached the
point in my thinking where I had decided it was useless to keep Hoddy
and Stonehenge apart except as an exercise in mental agility. Inasmuch
as my brain was already weight-lifting, swinging from a flying trapeze
to elusive flying rings while doing triple somersaults and at the same
time juggling seven Indian clubs, I skipped the whole matter.

But I'm fairly certain that it wasn't till then that Hoddy had a chance
to deliver his letter-of-credence to Stonehenge.

After dinner, we gathered in my office for our coffee and a final
conference before the opening of the trial the next morning.

Stonehenge spoke first, looking around the table at everyone except me.

"No matter what happens, we have the fleet within call. Sir Rodney's
been active picking up those z'Srauff meteor-mining boats. They no
longer have a tight screen around the system. We do. I don't think that
anyone, except us, knows that the fleet's where it is."

_No matter what happens_, I thought glumly, and the phrase explained why
he hadn't been able to look at me.

"Well, boss, I gave you my end of it, comin' in," Hoddy said. "Want me
to go over it again? All right. In Bonneyville, we found half a dozen
people who can swear that Kettle-Belly Sam Bonney was making
preparations to protect those three brothers an hour before Ambassador
Cumshaw was shot. The whole town's sorer than hell at Kettle-Belly for
antagonizing the Hickock outfit and getting the place shot up the way it
was. And we have witnesses that Kettle-Belly w