"I am indeed deeply honored, Mr. Secretary. I trust I needn't go into any assurances that I will do everything possible to justify your trust in me." "I believe he will, Mr. Secretary," Natalenko piped, in a manner that chilled my blood. "Yes, I believe so," Ghopal Singh said. "Now, Mr. Ambassador, there's a liner in orbit two thousand miles off Luna, which has been held from blasting off for the last eight hours, waiting for you. Don't bother packing more than a few things; you can get everything you'll need aboard, or at New Austin, the planetary capital. We have a man whom Cooerdinator Natalenko has secured for us, a native New Texan, Hoddy Ringo by name. He'll act as your personal secretary. He's aboard the ship now. You'll have to hurry, I'm afraid.... Well, _bon voyage_, Mr. Ambassador." CHAPTER II The death-watch outside had grown to about fifteen or twenty. They were all waiting in happy anticipation as I came out of the Secretary's office. "What did he do to you, Silk?" Courtlant Staynes asked, amusedly. "Demoted me. Kicked me off the Hooligan Diplomats," I said glumly. "Demoted you from the Consular Service?" Staynes asked scornfully. "Impossible!" "Yes. He demoted me to the Cookie Pushers. Clear down to Ambassador." They got a terrific laugh. I went out, wondering what sort of noises they'd make, the next morning, when the appointments sheet was posted. I gathered a few things together, mostly small personal items, and all the microfilms that I could find on New Texas, then got aboard the Space Navy cutter that was waiting to take me to the ship. It was a four-hour trip and I put in the time going over my hastily-assembled microfilm library and using a stenophone to dictate a reading list for the spacetrip. As I rolled up the stenophone-tape, I wondered what sort of secretary they had given me; and, in passing, why Natalenko's department had furnished him. Hoddy Ringo.... Queer name, but in a galactic civilization, you find all sorts of names and all sorts of people bearing them, so I was prepared for anything. And I found it. I found him standing with the ship's captain, inside the airlock, when I boarded the big, spherical space-liner. A tubby little man, with shoulders and arms he had never developed doing secretarial work, and a good-natured, not particularly intelligent face. _See the happy moron, he doesn't give a damn_, I thought. Then I took a second look at him. He might be happy, but he wasn't a moron. He just looked like one. Natalenko's people often did, as one of their professional assets. I also noticed that he had a bulge under his left armpit the size of an eleven-mm army automatic. He was, I'd been told, a native of New Texas. I gathered, after talking with him for a while, that he had been away from his home planet for over five years, was glad to be going back, and especially glad that he was going back under the protection of Solar League diplomatic immunity.