and
they nodded gravely, solemnly, without speaking.

"You are a young man, John Hanson," continued Kellen, "but your record
in your service is one of which you can be proud. We trust you--with
knowledge that is so secret, so precious, that we must revert to speech
in order to convey it; we dare not trust it, even in this protected and
guarded place, to the menore's quicker but less discreet communication."

He paused for a moment, frowning thoughtfully as though dreading to
begin. I waited silently, and at last he spoke again.

"There is a world"--and he named a name which I shall not repeat, the
name of the Forgotten Planet--"that is a festering sore upon the body of
the Universe. As you know, for two centuries we have tried to pass on to
these people an understanding of peace and friendship. I believe that
nothing has been left undone. The Council and the forces behind it have
done everything within their power. And now--"

He stopped again, and there was an expression of deepest pain written
upon his wise and kindly face. The pause was for but an instant.

"And now," he went on firmly, "it is at an end. Our work has been
undone. Two centuries of effort--undone. They have risen in revolt, they
have killed all those sent by the Alliance of which this Council is the
governing body and the mouthpiece, and they have sent us an ultimatum--a
threat of war!"

"_What?_"

* * * * *

Kellen nodded his magnificent old head gravely.

"I do not wonder that you start," he said heavily. "War! It must not be.
It cannot be! And yet, war is what they threaten."

"But, sir!" I put in eagerly. I was young and rash in those days. "Who
are they, to make war against a united Universe?"

"I have visited your planet, Earth," said Kellen, smiling very faintly.
"You have a tiny winged insect you call _bee_. Is it not so?"

"Yes."

"The bee is a tiny thing, of little strength. A man, a little child,
might crush one to death between a thumb and finger. But the bee may
sting before he is crushed, and the sting may linger on for days, a
painful and unpleasant thing. Is that not so?"

"I see, sir," I replied, somewhat abashed before the tolerant, kindly
wisdom of this great man. "They cannot hope to wage successful war, but
they may bring much suffering to others."

"Much suffering," nodded Kellen, still gently smiling. "And we are
determined that this thing shall not be. Not"--and his face grew gra