id crisply, in his low, rumbling
voice, "no fiddle-faddling around. Let's get down to business."

The Swami closed his eyes.

"Please be seated," he intoned to Old Stone Face. "And now, let us all
join hands in an unbroken circle."

Henry shot him a beetle-browed look as he sat down between Auerbach and
me, but at least he was cooeperative to the extent that he placed both
his hands on top of the table. If Auerbach and I reached for them, we
would be permitted to grasp them.

I leaned back and snapped off the overhead light to darken the room in
an eerie, blue glow.

We sat there, holding hands, for a full ten minutes. Nothing happened.

* * * * *

It was not difficult to estimate the pattern of Henry's mind. Six
persons, ten minutes, equals one man-hour. One man-hour of idle time to
be charged into the cost figure of the antigrav unit. He was staring
fixedly at the cylinders which lay in random positions in the center of
the table, as if to assess their progress at this processing point. He
apparently began to grow dissatisfied with the efficiency rating of the
manufacturing process at this point. He stirred restlessly in his chair.

The Swami seemed to sense the impatience, or it might have been
coincidence.

"There is some difficulty," he gasped in a strangulated, high voice. "My
guides refuse to come through."

"Harrumph!" exclaimed Old Stone Face. It left no doubt about what _he_
would do if _his_ guides did not obey orders on the double.

"Someone in this circle is not a True Believer!" the Swami accused in an
incredulous voice.

In the dim blue light I was able to catch a glimpse of Sara's face. She
was on the verge of breaking apart. I managed to catch her eye and flash
her a stern warning. Later she told me she had interpreted my expression
as stark fear, but it served the same purpose. She smothered her
laughter in a most unladylike sound somewhere between a snort and a
squawk.

The Swami seemed to become aware that somehow he was not holding his
audience spellbound.

"Wait!" he commanded urgently; then he announced in awe-stricken tones,
"I feel a presence!"

There was a tentative, half-hearted rattle of some castanets--which
could have been managed by the Swami wiggling one knee, if he happened
to have them concealed there. This was followed by the thin squawk of a
bugle--which could have been accomplished by sitting over toward one
side and squashing the ai