He had completed a certain division of his work on the Science Community's communication system, and it occurred to him that a few days' relaxation would do him good. A run up to New York would be just the thing. To his amazement, he was not permitted to board the outbound bus. "You'll need orders from the Chief Engineer's office," the driver said. * * * * * Benda went to Rohan. "Am I a prisoner?" he demanded with his characteristic directness. "An embarassing situation," the suave Rohan admitted, very calmly and at his ease. "You see, I'm nothing like a dictator here. I have no arbitrary power. Everything runs by system, and you're a sort of exception. No one knows exactly how to classify you. Neither do I. But, I can't break a rule. That is sin." "What rule? I want to go to New York." "Only those of the Faith who have reached the third degree can come and go. No one can get that in less than three years." "Then you got me in here by fraud?" Benda asked bluntly. Rohan side-stepped gracefully. "You know our innermost secrets now," he explained. "Do you suppose there is any hope of your embracing the Faith?" Benda whirled on his heel and walked out. "I'll think about it!" he said, his voice snapping with sarcasm. Benda went back to his work in order to get his mind off the matter. He was a well-balanced man if he was anything; and he knew that nothing could be accomplished by rash words or incautious moves against Rohan and his organization. And on that day he met John Edgewater Smith. "You here?" Benda gasped. He lost his equilibrium for a moment in consternation at the sight of his fellow-engineer. Smith was too elated to notice Benda's mood. "I've been here a week. This is certainly an ideal opportunity in my line of work. Even in Heaven I never expected to find such a chance." By this time Benda had regained control of himself. He decided to say nothing to Smith for the time being. * * * * * They did not meet again for several weeks. In the meantime Benda discovered that his mail was being censored. At first he did not know that his letters, always typewritten, were copied and objectionable matter omitted, and his signature reproduced by the photo-engraving process, separately each time. But before long, several letters came back to him rubber-stamped: "Not passable. Please revise." It took Benda two days to cool down and rewrite the first letter. But outwardly no one would have ever known that there was anything amiss with him. However, he took to leaving his work for an hour or two a day and walking in the park, to think out the matter. He didn't like it. This was about the time that it began to be a real issue as to who was the bigger man of the two, Rohan or Benda. But no signs of the issue appeared externally for many months.