d and Fram jumped. She did not scream, however, and did not
run out of the office. The master spy was a big, self-assured, affluent
type. He had not the slightest idea of how he had been spirited out of
his ultra-secret sub-basement and into this room; but he knew where he
was and, after one glance at Belle, he knew why. He decided instantly
what to do about it.

"This is an outrage!" he bellowed, hammering with his fist on Avengord's
desk. "A stupid, high-handed violation of the rights...."

Belle silenced him and straightened him up.

"High-handed? Yes," she admitted quite seriously. "However, from the
Galaxian standpoint, you have no rights at all and you are going to be
extremely surprised at just how high-handed I am going to be. I am going
to read your mind to its very bottom--layer by layer, like peeling an
onion--and everything you know and everything you think is going down in
Mr. Avengord's Big Black Book."

Belle linked all four minds together and directed the search, making
sure that no item, however small, was missed. Avengord recorded every
pertinent item. Fram Kimling memorized and correlated and
double-checked.

Soon it was done, and Basil, shouting even louder about this last and
worst violation of his rights--those of his own private mind--was led
away by two men and "put away where he would keep."

"But this _is_ a flagrant violation of law...." Miss Kimling began.

"You can say _that_ again!" her boss gloated. "And if you only knew how
tickled I am to do it, after the way they've been kicking _me_ around!

"But I wonder ... are you sure we can get away with it?"

"Certainly," Belle put in. "We Galaxians are doing it, not your
government or your Secret Service. We'll start you clean--but it'll be
up to you to keep it clean, and that will be no easy job."

"No, it won't; but we'll do it. Come around again, say in five or six
years, and see."

"You know, I might take you up on that? Maybe not this same team, but
I've got a notion to tape a recommendation for a re-visit, just to see
how you get along. It'd be interesting."

"I wish you would. It might help, too, if everybody thought you'd come
back to check. Suppose you could?"

"I've no idea, really. I'd like to, though, and I'll see what I can do.
But let's get on with the job. They're all in what you call the 'tank'
now. Which one do you want next?"

The work went on. That evening there was of course a reception; and then
a ball. And