"No, you're going to be something different. There are going to be Venusians--and Martians and Earthmen--who'll talk about you many, many years from now. About how their fathers and grandfathers stood in the rain to hear you talk." She looked over her spectacles. "Which reminds me--get out on that balcony and don't make any slips." He pressed the very old, very great lady's hand silently, then, mopping his brow, stepped out to the ledge beyond his window. It was in the twilight zone of perpetual rain, and the crowd of white pates and faces before him was hardly visible through the wisps of steam. He looked about uneasily as he turned on the fog-piercing lights that flooded him with a golden glow, so that the Venusians could see their superman. As he began to speak into the mike at his lips there was a hoot of reproof from the crowd. And then there were others. Something was going the rounds; he could feel it. Very distinctly there was a shrill cry from the sea of faces: "_Liar!_" And others echoed it, again and again. He tried to speak, but was howled down. A firm hand snapped off the lights and closed the window; Dr. Carewe dropped him into a chair, limp and shocked. She handed him a slip of paper that had just been delivered. With her lips tightly compressed she said: "They knew before we did. Osgood spilled it--all." * * * * * They shot to Mars before assassins could take any tries at them. Weems was completely washed up and discredited on Venus; knew it and felt like it. What had his fine words been in the face of a stern, righteous declaration from the Foreign Office on Earth to the Foreign Office on Venus--gleefully published far and wide by the Mars-bribed officers in the latter--hurling the most frightful accusations of violating diplomatic immunity? God only knew, brooded Weems, why Osgood had chosen precisely that moment to sound off. He had said fighting words, too--"back up our determination to shield the weak with deeds as well as--" Ugh! What was the matter with Osgood? The Martians couldn't touch Earth's Foreign Office; they bred them dumb but honest there. Why had Osgood--? Did he want to be an Iron Man? Did he think he could get further faster in time of war? Or did he actually, honestly believe that by this half-witted note insulting a friendly planet on account of a mere violation of etiquette he was striking a blow for justice and equality? It probably was just that, Weems decided. And Dr. Carewe agreed. When they landed on the red planet Weems felt very low, and was scarcely given a new lease on life by the warm reception he received from Martian notables. He was welcomed Earth fashion, with a band and speeches from a platform to twenty thousand cheering Martians. They could afford to treat him kindly; he'd failed utterly and miserably from blocking a new, magnificent source of income to Mars--the on-rushing Earth-Venus war.