I walked on down the room, feeling as conspicuous as a cheer leader at a wake, while five pairs of eyes sorted me over molecule by molecule. When I reached the near end of the table, I stopped, resisted an impulse to salute, and stood there at attention. The President managed to keep from smiling, although you could see he wasn't far from it. "Thanks for coming here so promptly, Mr. Quinlan. I'd like you to meet my associates." He reeled off names and titles. The two strangers were a Mr. Proudfit and a Mr. Kramer, occupations not disclosed. Kramer was small and ageless, with a weather-beaten face and a mouth like a steel trap; while Mr. Proudfit had the look of a benign monk, until you saw the tempered steel glint in his piercing eyes. When introductions were completed, I said, "How do you do?" once, including them all, and went on waiting. Nobody suggested I sit down, probably because there were only five chairs around the table to begin with and the room's two couches were too far away to keep me in the group. The President gave me the same winning smile that had pulled a couple million extra votes his way in the last election, and said, "Let me start off, Mr. Quinlan, by telling you that we've got a problem on our hands--one that may very well involve the peace and well-being of the entire country. The details are going to strain your credulity beyond human limits, I'm afraid--just as they have ours. But there is enough supporting evidence to what we've heard for us to do something about it. And that's where you come in." He paused, evidently waiting for a response from me. There was only one response I could make--even though I hadn't the slightest idea what he was talking about. "I'm at your service, Mr. President." His smile was a medal for my chest. "Thank you. At this point I'd better let Mr. Kramer take over." Kramer leaned back in his chair, placed the tips of his fingers together and stared searchingly at me over them. His voice, when he spoke, was as dry as his skin. "Mr.--ah--Quinlan, I understand you were born thirty-one years ago on a Potawatomi Indian reservation in the state of Michigan." I blinked. "That's right. Not many people know it." "You are part Indian, I believe?" "One quarter Potawatomi." "Also, I'm told that you are something of an authority on the history of the American Indian." "I've written books on the subject and expect to write a good many more." "You speak the language?" "What language?" He floundered a little. "Why--ah--the--ah--Indian language." * * * * *