"You mean like Balmer and Phog Relapse running the Michelson experiment in their cellar, and making it come out that there _is_ an ether drift, only it's _down_?" He bristled. "No, I certainly don't--" "Or like Lobbard discovering Scatiology?" "Ptah! No! Like Watt, like Edison, Galileo--" He thumbed down three fingers emphatically. "--Goodyear, Morse, Whitney--" Down below, the meeting had taken less than five minutes to confirm Samwitz as chairman. I think the chandelier helped; they ought to install one of those in every parliamentary chamber. The chair recognized Punchy, who said sweetly that the first order of business ought to be to get opinions from the people who knew something, beginning with Werner Kley. Werner accordingly made a very charming speech, full of Teutonic rumbles, the essence of which was that he didn't know any more about this than a rabbit. He suggested, however, that pictures should be taken. There was a chorus of "Tom!" and Jones staggered forward with his war-cry: "There isn't any _film_ in it!" Somebody was dispatched to get film; somebody else trotted out to telephone for reporters and cameramen, and three or four other people headed in a businesslike way for the men's room. Ray was simultaneously trying to get the chair's attention and explaining to me, in staccato asides, how many epochal inventions had been made by amateurs in attic workshops. I said--and this was really bothering me--"But look: do you see anybody with any kind of a gadget? How's he going to hide it? How's he going to focus it, or whatever?" Ray snorted. "It might be hidden in almost anything. Burgeon's guitar--Gamble's briefcase--Mr. Chairman!" Duchamp was talking, but I could feel it in my bones that Samwitz was going to get around to Ray next. I leaned closer. "Ray, listen--a thing like this--they wouldn't keep it to themselves, would they?" "Why not? Wouldn't you--for a while, anyway?" He gave me his bobcat grin. "I can think of quite--a--few things I could do, if I had it." So could I; that was the whole point. I said, "Yeah. I was hoping we could spot him, before the crowd does." I sighed. "Fat chance, I suppose." He gave me another side-long look. "That shouldn't be so hard," he drawled. "You _know_ who it is?" He put on his most infuriating grin, peering to see how I took it. "I've, got, a few, ideas." "Who?" Wrong question. He shook his head with a that-would-be-telling look. Somebody across the room went down with a crash; then somebody else. "Sit on the floor!" Ray shouted, and they all did it, squatting cautiously like old ladies at a picnic. The meeting gathered speed again. I looked apprehensively at the narrow piano top we were standing on, and sat down with my legs hanging over. Ray stayed where he was, defying the elements to do their worst. "You know, all right," I said, looking up at him, "but you're keeping it to yourself." I shrugged. "Well, why shouldn't you?"