That man was obviously one of them. His manner and general appearance were the same. But that man was also Conjerly. He was speaking. "I must return at once. The soporific I inhaled into my other body will wear off shortly, and if the other mind becomes conscious, exchange will be difficult. True, Tempelmar is on guard there and could administer another dose. But that is dangerous. Understand, we will attempt no further exchanges unless it becomes necessary to transmit to you information of vital importance. The process is too risky. There is always the possibility of the mental channels being blocked, and one or both of us being marooned here." "You are wise," observed the midmost of the Servants, apparently their chairman, a tall thin man with wrinkle-puckered lips. "No further exchanges should be necessary. I anticipate no emergencies." "And so I take my leave," Conjerly continued, "assured that the transtime machine is ready and that the invasion will begin in three days, at the hour agreed. We will prevent the World Executive Committee from taking any significant action until then." Thorn leaned forward, half guessing what was coming. Clawly II's hand touched his sleeve. Conjerly bowed his head, stood there rigid. Two black-uniformed guards appeared and took up positions close to him, one on either side. For a full half minute nothing happened. Then a great shiver went through Conjerly. He slumped forward, would have fallen except for the two guards. He hung in their arms, breathing heavily. When he raised his face, Thorn saw that it had a different expression, was that of a different man. A man who looked dazed and sick. "Where--? Who?" he mumbled thickly. The guards began to lead him out. Then his eyes cleared. He seemed to recognize the situation. "Don't lock me up. Let me explain," he cried out, his voice racked by a desperate yet hopeless urgency. "My name's Conjerly. I'm a member of the World Executive Committee." His face, twisted back over his shoulder, was a white, uncomprehending mask. "Who are you? What do you want out of me? Why am I drugged? What have you done to my body? What are you trying to do to my mind? What--" The guards dragged him out. The wrinkle-lipped chairman lowered his eyes. "A distressing occurrence. But, of course, strictly necessary. It is good to think that, when we have things under control in the other world, no such confinements and withholdings of permissible information will have to be practiced--except, of course, in the case of hopeless Recalcitrants." The others nodded silently. Then Thorn started, for from beside him came an amused, incredulous snicker--not a polite or pleasant sound, and certainly unexpected. All eyes were turned in their direction. * * * * * Clawly II strode out leisurely.