"Well, we've got to have that etheroel," Bill spoke firmly. "They won't give us a formula." Webster began pacing the floor in small circles, glancing from Bill to Olé in a distraught manner. "It's a vicious circle," he muttered. "Indeed, a very vicious circle! It's up to the Interworld Government to choose between slaughtering all the Uvans if they uncap the wells, or not having the etheroel." "It is tough, isn't it?" Bill nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, that isn't all," replied Webster. "Don't you see what'll happen? No one in the outside world is capable of making an independent decision of this magnitude. They've gotten in the habit of referring all major problems to the _Uvan Thought Clinic_. They'll refer this one back to the Uvans and you know how the Uvans stand on the question of etheroel. What we need is a good old fashioned freebooter to take up the matter." "Freebooter!" A thoughtful frown creased Bill Petrie's handsome brow. He glanced at Olé, the Uvan editor, who blinked his top-side eyes worriedly. If Bill had had a grape-cell head, a few lights would have popped off and on in it at this instant for the shape of an idea was forming in his brain. Suddenly he took Kitty's two hands in his own and, staring into her deep blue eyes, said: "Kitty, you're a very wealthy gal. I need some cash. Are you, or aren't you going to radio your bank and have them open your account unconditionally to a company I'm floating right now?" The girl stared at him, startled. Perhaps the way he held her hands, or the look of earnestness in his gaze, did something to her. She suddenly smiled, murmuring, "Yes, Bill. I'm with you. What's the company?" "I'll sound crazy," Bill grinned. He turned to Olé and collared the little man. "Listen, Olé," he explained quickly. "You go back to the square and find my office. Open it up. Put a sign in front--Uvan Caviar Import Company. You'll be sales manager." "Caviar!" The little Uvan's face brightened. Bill tied a couple of strings to Ole's fingers and shoved him out the door. "Those strings are to remind you what to do when you get to the office. I'll be over there in a minute. I've got work to do now." He faced Webster. "Where's your transmitter?" "Bill, have you gone mad?" Kitty demanded. "Not yet, honey!" He kissed Kitty briefly but effectively, adding, "Get the money transferred to my Import Company. Then you go out to the square and keep Castlebottom happy for a half hour. He's on the pillory again. I'll see you at the office." * * * * * A half hour later Bill Petrie stepped from the residence transmitter room with a smile of triumph on his lips. Webster, Kitty and Olé were nowhere about so he walked briskly through the fantastically laid out streets of Uva to the market-place. There the smile faded from his mouth.