When the first dawnlight touched the sea, Karnes was watching it out the east window. It had been twenty-four hours since he had seen the superman walk into his gray globe and vanish. All night, he had been searching his brain for some clue that would tell him which of the two choices he should believe in. And he couldn't bring himself to believe in either. Once he had thought: _Why do I believe, then, what the impressor said? Why not just forget it?_ But that didn't help. He _did_ believe it. That alien instrument had impressed his mind, not only with the facts themselves, but with an absolute faith that they _were_ facts. There was no room for doubt; the knowledge imparted to his mind was true, and he knew it. For a time, he had been comforted by the thought that the gray globe must be a time machine because of the way it had vanished. It was very comforting until he realized that travel to the stars and beyond didn't necessarily mean a spaceship as he knew spaceships. Teleportation-- Now, with the dawn, Karnes knew there was only one thing he could do. Somehow, somewhere, there would be other clues--clues a man who knew what to look for might find. The Galactics couldn't be perfect, or they wouldn't have let him get the mind impressor in his hands. Ergo, somewhere they would slip again. Karnes knew he would spend the rest of his life looking for that one slip. He had to know the truth, one way or another. Or he might not stay sane. * * * * * Lansberg picked him up at eight in a police copter. As they floated toward New York, Karnes' mind settled itself into one cold purpose; a purpose that lay at the base of his brain, waiting. Lansberg was saying: "--and one of Brittain's men got the stuff last night. He hadn't passed it on to Brittain himself yet this morning, but he very probably will have by the time we get there. "We've rigged it up so that Brittain will have to pass it to his superior by tomorrow or it will be worthless. When he does, we'll follow it right to the top." "If we've got every loophole plugged," said Karnes, "we ought to take them easy." "Brother, I hope so! It took us eight months to get Brittain all hot and bothered over the bait, and another two months to give it to him in a way that wouldn't make him suspicious. "It's restricted material, of course, so that we can pin a subversive activities rap on them, at least, if not espionage. But we had to argue like hell to keep it restricted; the Spatial Commission was ready to release it, since it's really relatively harmless." Karnes looked absently at the thin line of smoke wiggling from Lansberg's cigarette. "You know," he said, "there are times when I wish this war would come right out in the open. Actually, we've been fighting the League for years, but we don't admit it. There have been little disagreements and incidents until the devil won't have it. But it's still supposed to be a 'worry war'."