Turnbull looked at the face. It was that of a fairly old man who still retained the vitality of youth. It was lined, but still firm. It took him a moment to recognize the face--then he recalled stereos he'd seen. It was Scholar Jason Rawlings. Turnbull tried to lift himself up and found he couldn't. The scholar smiled. "Sorry we had to strap you down," he said, "but I'm not nearly as strong as you are, and I didn't have any desire to be jumped before I got a chance to talk to you." Turnbull relaxed. There was no immediate danger here. "Know where you are?" Rawlings asked. "Centaurus City," Turnbull said calmly. "It's a three-day trip, so obviously you couldn't have made it in the five hours after I sent you the message. You had me kidnaped and brought here." The old man frowned slightly. "I suppose, technically, it _was_ kidnaping, but we had to get you out of circulation before you said anything that might ... ah ... give the whole show away." Turnbull smiled slightly. "Aren't you afraid that the police will trace this to you?" "Oh, I'm sure they would eventually," said Rawlings, "but you'll be free to make any explanations long before that time." "I see," Turnbull said flatly. "Mind operation. Is that what you did to Scholar Duckworth?" The expression on Scholar Rawling's face was so utterly different from what Turnbull had expected that he found himself suddenly correcting his thinking in a kaleidoscopic readjustment of his mind. "What did you think you were on to, Dr. Turnbull?" the old man asked slowly. Turnbull started to answer, but, at that moment the door opened. The round, pleasant-faced gentleman who came in needed no introduction to Turnbull. Scholar Duckworth said: "Hello, Dave. Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, but I got--" He stopped. "What's the matter?" "I'm just cursing myself for being a fool," Turnbull said sheepishly. "I was using your disappearance as a datum in a problem that didn't require it." Scholar Rawlings laughed abruptly. "Then you thought--" Duckworth chuckled and raised a hand to interrupt Rawlings. "Just a moment, Jason; let him logic it out to us." "First take these straps off," said Turnbull. "I'm stiff enough as it is, after being out cold for three days." Rawlings touched a button on the wall, and the restraining straps vanished. Turnbull sat up creakily, rubbing his arms. "Well?" said Duckworth. Turnbull looked up at the older man. "It was those first two letters of yours that started me off." "I was afraid of that," Duckworth said wryly. "I ... ah ... tried to get them back before I left Earth, but, failing that, I sent you a letter to try to throw you off the track." "Did you think it would?" Turnbull asked. "I wasn't sure," Duckworth admitted. "I decided that if you had what it takes to see through it, you'd deserve to know the truth." "I think I know it already." "I dare say you do," Duckworth admitted. "But tell us first why you jumped to the wrong conclusion."