Puzzled but unquestioning, the admiral went to the visiphone and dialed the zoo. "Admiral Hawarden, Curator. I believe the Prime Minister's toogan was just delivered to you. There was a mistake. Please send it back ... never mind, sir, what the 'why' is, just return it immediately." He flipped off the switch impatiently, and looked at the young Secret Serviceman with wondering eyes. A toogan? What on earth did the fellow want with ... this was the most amazing man he'd ever seen. But he sure did get results. He turned back to his men. "Anything yet?" "Nothing but ordinary state papers so far, sir," was the consensus. "Keep looking. Remember, we especially want any mention of any planets whose names you do not recognize; anything about ship-building, or about mining or other planets." Hanlon handed Hawarden a note, and the admiral sent a couple of marines off on a run. Half an hour later a truck pulled up in front, and the marines carried in another desk. It was the one from that back room in the Bacchus Tavern. Hanlon himself went through this, but was quickly disappointed. There wasn't a thing he wanted in any of the drawers. He turned the desk upside down, looking for secret compartments. Finding none, he ordered the marines to take it to pieces. At a nod from the admiral they dismantled the desk. But it was perfectly innocuous. Hanlon was just turning away, disgustedly, when a man came from the zoo with the caged toogan. At sight of the familiar room the bird perked up. "Hey, Boss!" it called out in a clear but whistling sort of voice, "I'm home again." Hanlon had no trouble understanding its words, spoken in Simonidean, of course, but was busy examining its mind. He walked over to the messenger and held out his hand. "I'll take the bird." The zoo attendant looked at him doubtfully. "It's a vicious thing, sir," he said. "Be careful--it's already injured one man. They say no one but the Prime Minister can handle it." "It's all right," the admiral spoke. "Thank you for bringing it. That will be all." Hanlon took the cage and, giving the admiral a meaning look, walked out of the room with it. Chapter 23 In the next room George Hanlon sank into a comfortable chair, then opened the cage door and the toogan fluttered out and perched on the chair arm. The young man fitted his mind more closely to the bird's brain and began probing. Carefully he studied its every line and channel, utterly oblivious to everything else. His first brief examination brought a slight sound of pleased surprise to his lips. This bird had a real mind, far better than any he had previously discovered in any animal or bird, even better than a dog's. And he could read everything in it.