" Bundy exulted. "So big that Gerald Banks, the top press-agent
of all time, actually doesn't _want_ publicity! The starship works--this
lack-of-control stuff is the bunk--from here to another star in nothing
flat--Garlock's back, and he's brought--what _have_ you got in there,
Jerry?"

"The only way I can tell you is in confidence, for Evans' release. I'd
like to, Ben, believe me, but I can't."

"Confidence, hell! Do you think we won't get it?"

"In that case, no comment." The interview ended and the siege began.

* * *

Newshounds and detectives questioned and peered and probed. They dug
into morgues, tabulating and classifying. They recalled and taped and
sifted all the gossip they had heard. They got a picture of sorts, but
it was maddeningly confusing and incomplete. And, since it was certain
that inter-systemic matters were involved, they could not
extrapolate--any guess was far too apt to be wrong. Thus nothing went on
the air or appeared in print; and, although the surface remained calm,
all newsdom seethed to its depths.

Wherefore haggard Banks and harried Evans greeted Garlock with shouts of
joy when the four wanderers came back to spend the week end on Earth.

"I'll talk to 'em," Garlock decided, after the long story had been told.
"Have somebody get hold of Bundy and ask him to come out."

"Get _hold_ of him!" Banks snorted. "He's here. Twenty-four hours a day.
Eating sandwiches and cat-napping on chairs in the lobby. All you have
to do is unseal that door."

Garlock flung the door wide. Bundy rushed in, followed by a more-or-less
steady stream of some fifty other top-bracket newspeople, both men and
women.

"Well, Garlock, perhaps _you_ will give us some screens-down facts?"
Bundy asked, angrily.

"I'll give you _all_ the screens-down...."

"Clee!" "You're crazy!" "You can't!" "Don't!" Belle and all the
Operators protested at once.

* * *

Ignoring the objections, Garlock cut his shield to half and gave the
whole group a true account of everything that had happened in the
galaxy. Then, while they were all too stunned to speak, a grin of
saturnine amusement spread over his dark, five-o'clock-shadowed face.

"You pestiferous gnats insisted on grabbing the ball," he sneered. "Now
let's see you run with it."

Bundy came out of his trance. "_What_ a story!" he yelled. "We'll
plaster it...."

"Yeah," Garlock said, dryly. "_What_ a stor