ng work, one way or
another, to almost a thousand. Think what things will be like a year
from now, if this keeps on."

Rodney Maxwell gave a wry laugh. "Didn't know I had a real Simon-pure
altruist for a son."

"Pardner, when you call me that, smile."

"I am smiling. With some slight difficulty."

He didn't think well of the banquet. Back in Litchfield, Senta would
have fired half her human help and taken a sledgehammer to her
robo-chef for a meal like that. Even his father's camp cook would have
been ashamed of it. And there were more speeches.

President Vyckhoven managed to get hold of him and Yves Jacquemont
afterward, and steered them into his private study.

"Have you any real reason for thinking that Merlin might be on
Koshchei?" the Planetary President asked.

"Great Ghu, no! We weren't looking for Merlin, Mr. President. We were
looking for a hypership. We have one, too. Calling her _Ouroboros II_.
Twenty-five-hundred-footer. We expect to have her to space in a few
months. I surely don't need to tell you what that will do toward
restoring planetary prosperity."

"No, of course not; a hypership of our own. But...." He looked from
one to the other of them. "But I understood.... That is, Mr. Kurt
Fawzi was saying...."

"Mr. Fawzi is looking for Merlin here on Poictesme. If anybody finds
it, that's where it'll be found. I'm interested in getting business
started again. If Merlin is found, it would help, of course." He
shrugged.

"Don't look at me," Jacquemont said. "Mr. Maxwell--both of them,
father and son--want some spaceships. They hired me to help build
them. That's all I have in it." Then he relit the cigar the President
had given him and leaned back in his chair, staring at the stuffed
alcesoid head with the seven-foot hornspread above the fireplace.

Conn described the interview to his father after they were back at the
hotel.

"I hope you convinced him. You know, he's afraid of Merlin. A lot of
people have been saying that if Merlin's found, it should be used to
determine Government policy. A few extremists are beginning to say
that Merlin ought to _be_ the Government, and Jake Vyckhoven and his
cronies ought to be dumped. Into the handiest mass-energy converter,
preferably. You know, if anybody found Merlin and started it auditing
the Planetary Treasury, Jake Vyckhoven'd be the one who'd be wanting a
hypership."

Tom Brangwyn ran him down the next morning in the dining room.

"Conn, I wi