the Embassy--"

"Because that would make him the next target?" I interrupted. "Well,
that's what I was sent here for. Mr. Gomez, as Secretary of the Embassy,
will you please, at once, prepare a statement for the press and telecast
release to the effect that I am now the authorized head of this Embassy,
responsible from this hour for all its future policies and all its
present commitments insofar as they obligate the government of the Solar
League. Get that out at once. Tomorrow, I will present my credentials to
the Secretary of State here. Thereafter, Mr. Thrombley, you can rest in
the assurance that I'll be the one they'll be shooting at."

"But you can't wait that long, Mr. Ambassador," Thrombley almost wailed.
"We must go immediately to the Statehouse. The reception for you is
already going on."

I looked at my watch, which had been regulated aboard ship for Capella
IV time. It was just 1315.

"What time do they hold diplomatic receptions on this planet, Mr.
Thrombley?" I asked.

"Oh, any time at all, sir. This one started about 0900 when the news
that the ship was in orbit off-planet got in. It'll be a barbecue, of
course, and--"

"Barbecued supercow! Yipeee!" Hoddy yelled. "What I been waitin' for for
five years!"

It would be the vilest cruelty not to take him along, I thought. And it
would also keep him and Stonehenge apart for a while.

"But we must hurry, Mr. Ambassador," Thrombley was saying. "If you will
change, now, to formal dress ..."

And he was looking at me, gasping. I think it was the first time he had
actually seen what I was wearing.

"In native dress, Mr. Ambassador!"

Thrombley's eyes and tone were again those of an innocent spaniel caught
in the middle of a marital argument.

Then his gaze fell to my belt and his eyes became saucers. "Oh, dear!
And armed!"

My charge d'affaires was shuddering and he could not look directly at
me.

"Mr. Ambassador, I understand that you were recently appointed from the
Consular Service. I sincerely hope that you will not take it amiss if I
point out, here in private, that--"

"Mr. Thrombley, I am wearing this costume and these pistols on the
direct order of Secretary of State Ghopal Singh."

That set him back on his heels.

"I ... I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. "An ambassador is _never_
armed."

"Not when he's dealing with a government which respects the comity of
nations and the usages of diplomatic practice, no," I replied. "But the