unced. The second is still there, still trying.

"As a matter of fact, we have no evidence at all, merely a sort of
'hunch', or presentiment, of a plot against the peace and welfare of the
Federated Planets. There may be nothing wrong at all, but we don't like
to take chances. With your ability to read minds you may be able to find
out. We hope so."

Hanlon thought the message was ended, but then the voice began again. "I
was told you came through your disgrace-scene very well. I know just
what you are undoubtedly feeling at the moment, Spence--how sick at
heart you are--and I only wish there was some way of easing your pain.
But it will pass.

"Good luck, son, and safe flights. Take care of yourself. We're all
behind you, and by the devious ways you know you can call on any or all
of us at need. These reels are all water soluble, so dissolve them in
the washbowl and flush down the drain as soon as you're through with
each."

* * * * *

For the next two weeks Hanlon stayed fairly close to his room, studying
by day from books obtained at the library the things he was learning at
night via the sleep-instructor.

The evening of Graduation Day he sat miserably in front of a video
screen in his room, watching the broadcast of the stately ceremony of
which he would have been a part but for his decision to join the Secret
Service.

All the longings of the years he had wanted to become a part of the
Inter-Stellar Corps; all the hopes and plans he had made during his five
long years in cadet school; all the thrilling pride he had known that he
was to be a part of the greatest organization in the Universe, swelled
inside him and choked him.

When, at long last, the class rose to take the Oath of Allegiance,
Hanlon found himself on his feet, rigidly at attention, repeating the
impressive ritual aloud with them.

Now, for the first time, despite his decision and his private
graduation, he truly felt himself a vital part of the Corps.

* * * * *

On the street on his way to the library the following day, Hanlon
chanced to meet a small group of his former classmates, now clad in
their brand-new dress uniforms of sky-blue and crimson, their new junior
lieutenant's bars shining brightly.

"Hi, fellows!" he greeted them, only to be met by silent glares of
contempt.

"Aw, look, fellows, you know I was framed," Hanlon planted himself in
front of them, and made