And then the Stranger came to see him. We don't know who the Stranger was or where he came from. A force of evil, perhaps--the symbol of Satan refurbished and streamlined to fit the concepts of the modern world. "I've been reading your political pamphlets, Mr. Firth," the Stranger said. "You hold rather--rather fascinating views." "Now that I'm suitably flattered," Firth answered, "may I ask what particular form of hand-out you want?" "None. I've something for sale." The Stranger took a pamphlet out of his pocket. "But tell me this, first: do you honestly believe what you've written here?" "Every word of it. If I could find my sort of world anywhere in the universe, I'd pull up stakes in a minute and--" "You can create your own world, Mr. Firth." "Do you suppose I haven't tried? In every election I back my candidates with all I have--prestige, propaganda, money. It does no good. The fools prefer to be governed by other fools, like themselves." "I didn't mean here, Mr. Firth." The Stranger smiled as he lit a cigarette. "You see, my friend, I have a world for sale--a brand new world." "One of the asteroids?" Firth laughed bitterly. "I could have done that years ago. They're too close to the commercial orbits. How long would it be before one of our ships found the place? Then I'd be right back in the system again--and a laughing stock as well." "This is a planetoid beyond Pluto. It'll be generations before any of our ships--" "A frozen world? No thanks!" "Only on the surface. It's a hollow sphere, with a granite crust half a mile thick. Inside there's a suggestion of passageways and caverns, which may have been made artificially. Perhaps this was an outpost of a race which lived and died billions of years before our time." "An archeological gold mine!" "But Science pays so little, Mr. Firth. I'm interested in cash, not prestige." "Why should I pay you anything? You've told me where it is and what it is. I can find it for myself." The Stranger laughed. "I said beyond Pluto; that covers a lot of space, Mr. Firth." He paused for a moment. "My price is the stock in your Martian mines. Convert the rest of your holdings into any form of wealth that seems convenient and usable. In your case, Mr. Firth, you _can_ take it with you--to your own world. Think of it! No taxes; no social problems; no unfortunate masses to prey on your conscience; no government but your own." That was the beginning of the dream. The seed of the idea grew in John Firth's mind until it over-shadowed everything else. It became an obsession, driving him so that he had no peace. * * * * *