The Insurgent smiled bitterly, and drained the cup. And propaganda, of course. Subtle--most of it indirect, a good deal of it developed by the chrysalids themselves, but propaganda, nevertheless. Kill the evil ones--kill the eaters of dead flesh, the drinkers of blood. They are the servants of the Evil One. He almost retched. But, you could hardly blame them. It was a war, and, in a war, you play all your cards, even if some of them were forced into your hand. _Yes, and I've played genuine werewolf on occasion, when I had to._ He started to wash the coffeepot and the cup--then, threw both into the garbage can. He walked back to the radio and dialed it away from Eroica and back to baseball. The Giants were losing, Three-Zero, in the third inning. The house phone buzzed. He went to it slowly, picked it calmly off the hook. "Yes, Artie?" "Mister Disbrough, there's a couple of guys coming up to see you. I'm not supposed to tell you about it, but.... Well, I figured ..." the doorman said. "All right. Thanks, Artie," he answered quietly. He almost hung up, then thought of something. "Artie?" "Yes, Mister Disbrough?" "There'll be a couple of fifths of Dewar's in my cupboard. I won't be back for a while. You and Pete are welcome to them. And thanks again." He hung up and began to dress, realigning his chrysalis to give him the appearance of clothing. The doorbell rang, and he went to open it for the two men from the FBI. II What difference did it make, what particular pen he represented? Rather, since the sober-faced men knew very well which pen it was, why should it be so necessary to them for him to confirm what they already knew without a shadow of a doubt? "Now, then, Mister Disbrough," one of the FBI men said, leaning his hands on the edge of the table at which the Insurgent was sitting, "we know who sent you." _Good. Why bother me, then?_ "We know where you got your passport, we know who met you at the dock, we know your contacts. We have photographs of everyone you've met and talked to, we have tapes of every telephone call you've made or received. We also know that you are the top man in your organization here." _And?_ They were chrysalids, every one of them. Perhaps there was no Watcher behind them--perhaps. But he'd been picked up a little too quickly. The net had folded itself around him too soon. No--there had to be a Watcher. He wished they'd stop this talking and bring him out. "Now, I'd simply like to point out to you that this is an airtight case. No lawyer in the world will be able to break it down. You'll retain counsel, of course. But, I'd simply like to point out to you that there'll be no point to any denial you may make to us. We _know_ what you've been doing. I'd suggest you save your defense for the trial."