Gerd nodded pleasantly. "Wanniston's intellect has increased. A fatal illness. He does not recognize it, nor would he believe it if he were told. Yet it is so; Wanniston's illness has caused an increase in the acuity of the brain, a definite increase in the intelligence quotient. He is quite capable of out-thinking any of you--of us, pardon me. I feel no self-reproach, though. I," and Gerd Lel Rayne laughed heartily--too heartily, though the Terrans did not know it, "have known men of my race who were superior to me, and have no animosity as long as I am well fitted to my position, and can do my job well, better than many others. I may not advance above my present level, yet I can be emissary to Terra where the bulk of my race would find it against their liking." "Well, suppose you tell us what to do?" "I don't know," admitted Gerd. "Isolate him. Can you do that?" "No. He has a finger in every man's business here. We can do nothing unless he is permitted to pass on it. Furthermore, he will find it out in time to circumvent us if we try to operate without his approval. We do that and we land in jail, our life's ambitions stripped from us and dropped into his hands like a ripe plum." "I know," said Gerd. "I know." "He's your mental superior too?" asked Wilks uncertainly. Gerd nodded. "I can try, though. My mental superior he may be, but I am possessed of the knowledge of certain arts of which he knows nothing. That is the heritage of my race: the things I played with as a child. I still ... occasionally ... like to play--" * * * * * Wanniston entered the basement workshop of Gerd Lel Rayne and watched while the emissary made adjustments on a bit of complex apparatus. "Tricky gadget," said Wanniston. "It is that." "Energy collector--director, converter," said Wanniston. "You're about to release the secret of galactic power?" "No, I was just tinkering," said Gerd. "I have no intention of telling Terra about it." "I know about it now." "You'd tell them?" "You know better than that." "Well?" Wanniston grinned. And then before he could say more, Gaya came to the workshop room with a group of policemen. "Gerd," she said, "they want to speak to Wanniston." "Come ahead," called the financier. "John Wanniston, I arrest you for the crime of murder. I warn you that any statements will be considered evidence." "Murder? Me? Utterly fantastic!" The police lieutenant smiled quietly. "We'll have to ask you to come with us." "I've murdered who?" "You'll find out. I may say nothing." "I've murdered no one!" "That is for the State to decide--the State and a jury of twelve good men and true." "Judged by those who hate me? Why should I go?" "Wanniston, you're a smart man. You must certainly know the implication of any rash move." "But I'm innocent. Gerd--?"