preciate this."

"No trouble, Vance," the man said, rising and stepping around the
desk. "No more than we've got already."

He removed a suit coat from a hanger and left the office with it under
his arm. A moment later the door opened again and the senator saw the
shaggy head of his older son peer into the room. The boy was the one
who finally broke the silence which followed.

"Hi, Dad," he said, sauntering casually into the office. "Guess you're
pretty sore at me. Can't blame you."

Duran remained seated, indicating a chair against one wall. He waited
till his son had sat down.

"I'm a little dumbfounded, Rog, that's all. I suppose you had a good
reason for it."

"Sure. Old skinflint Skinner wouldn't let us--"

"_Roger!_" the senator growled threateningly. He was not going to
allow the interview to start off with a half-truth.

"Yeah, but that's state land," the boy persisted. "He hadn't any
right--"

"Roger, I said a _good_ reason."

"Okay, Dad," he sighed. "No, we didn't have _that_ kind of a reason."

"What it amounted to," Duran said, "was that you wanted to do
something spectacular like building a rocket and firing it at
something. Only to be fun it had to be illegal, if not immoral. And
Melvin Skinner's place seemed like the least objectionable target.
Isn't that about it?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Only we had just about finished the rocket before
we started wondering about a target. That was the trouble. Once we'd
built it, we had to do something with it."

"How do you think that's going to sound in court?"

"I don't know, Dad. You're the lawyer."

Duran cringed, but tried not to show it.

"Roger," he said slowly. "Flippancy is the easiest defense, and the
least effective. I hope you won't feel you have to resort to it too
often."

The boy said nothing.

"Well, tell me about it," his father suggested, sensing his son's
isolation.

"About what?"

"The rocket. Wouldn't a jet have been easier to make?"

"A rocket was cheaper."

The source of the money required for the project was something Duran
had overlooked. However, it was, he realized, one best postponed for
the present. The important thing now was to regain his son's
confidence.

"Did you design it?"

"Yeah. Well, I drew it up. Nothing very original about it. But it was
a good little machine."

Duran noticed the boy's restless squirming, saw him perfunctorily
place a hand to the baggy pocket of his jacket and quickly withdraw