In the chaste marble structure that housed the diminutive Foreign Office that Terra thought it sufficient to maintain there were to be found persons who would be kicked out of any other department of the government in two seconds flat. But because astropolitics was something new to Earth and because there had to be some place made for the half-witted offspring of the great legislative families this chaste marble structure housed a gallery of sub-normals that made Bellevue look like the Princeton Institute for Advanced Research on a sunny day. Or so the junior members thought. Not the least of these half-witted great ones was Jowett Osgood, the direct superior of Weems, to whom he would naturally report. Weems and Carewe were announced with a strange pomp and circumstance; they entered the big office to find Osgood rudely buried in what was supposed to look like work. Weems stood dumbly as Dr. Carewe coughed sharply. "Ah!" grunted Osgood, looking up. "What is it?" He was a gross man. "A pouch from Venus. We decoded it and we think it deserves your immediate attention. We didn't phone the contents because of tappers on the wires." Weems handed over the decodings, marked very prominently in red: CONFIDENTIAL--MAKE NO COPIES. Osgood scanned them and heaved himself to his feet. "Gad!" he grunted. "We must brook no delay--arm to the teeth!" He turned on his dictaphone. "Henry!" he snorted. "Listen to this! To Bureau of Protocol--" Dr. Carewe snapped off the dictaphone and shoved him back into his well-padded chair. "This," she said between her teeth, "is entirely up to you. Take it from us, immediate action is demanded to smooth over this incident. You won't be able to pass the buck onto some other department; this is right in your lap. And you won't be able to delay the affair until you've forgotten it; even you can see that. Now _what are you going to do_?" Osgood considered the matter with great dignity for two full minutes. Finally he announced: "I don't know." "My suggestion is that you appoint Mr. Weems here a sort of goodwill ambassador for special, but very vague, work. And give him an unlimited expense account. This thing mustn't get any further. Keep it between us three that the message arrived officially on Earth. The fiction will be that it was lost in space and that nobody has received official confirmation of the Aristotle. Any unofficial reports will be considered as sensational tales concocted by newscasters. That's the only way to keep Earth off the spot. And what a spot it is!" "I see," said Osgood. "Be advised that I shall follow your suggestions--as closely as is compatible with the dignity of this Office." Outside she informed Weems: "That last was face-saving and nothing else. From here we go to Venus--spreading sweetness and light. Always remember, young man, that our interceptor rockets are pretty good, but that the Venus bombers are pretty _damned_ good."