"As I said before, we have ... uh ... ways of making you tell us the truth," the Leader continued as though Hanlon had not interrupted, "but you would not be any good either to us or the Corps or yourself if we have to use ... uh ... persuasion. I don't want to see you broken. You may remember you once asked me if I could 'dish it out'? Let me assure you that I can." "But how can I prove anything when you've already made up your mind not to believe me?" Hanlon asked plaintively. "I'm doing my best to make you believe. I'll admit some of those points you've brought up could look fishy if viewed from one standpoint, but I assure you you're putting the wrong interpretation on them. If you'll look at them from my viewpoint you'll see they are just as true." His Highness regarded Hanlon silently but with a steady concentration for some minutes. "That might be true. I had about begun to believe you when we found Abrams, and when we questioned him he ... uh ... admitted what you had done, and why. That revived my doubts. Are you willing to be tested under a truth drug?" Hanlon almost gasped in dismay, but stifled it. He knew only too well the efficacy of modern truth drugs. They would reveal every thought and bit of knowledge he had ever had--all about the Corps, the Secret Service and everything. That hurt look came back into his face. "You sure are asking a lot, sir," he said. "I haven't anything to conceal from you, but no man likes to have his whole mind invaded that way--all his private thoughts and feelings. I don't see why you need suggest such a thing. I've told you the truth on matters you want to know about." "You appear to have done so, and I honestly want to believe you. For you see, Hanlon, I want you with me. You're my kind of a man. I like you because you have tremendous drive and imagination and ability--yes, and perhaps a bit because you're the only man I've ever met who wasn't ... uh ... afraid of me. I have tremendous plans for the future--and I would like to have you as my chief aide in them. I would train you as you've never guessed it possible for a man to be trained. And then, _together, Hanlon, we could rule the Universe_!" But George Hanlon was only half-listening, even to that last, that shocking, that totally unexpected proposition, his real goal. Here was the plot he had been seeking, the plot the Corps needed so desperately to know. Yet his personal crisis was, for the moment, more important if he was ever to be of any further benefit to the Secret Service or the Corps. To use his just-discovered knowledge, something else must come first. His mind, therefore, was seeking a way out. He well knew that once the truth drug was administered--and this Highness would not now be satisfied with anything less--he was as good as dead. They would find out the truth in minutes, and then would have no other recourse but to kill him.