The television cameras joined him en route and followed him all the way to the Palace. On the steps, Bedrich Florea awaited him, magnificently garbed in full executive uniform, his jewels flashing in the clear sunlight. "Allow me to load your Super Deluxe Conspirator's Florea Semper Fidelis Gun for you, Overlord Prognosticate," he announced in a ringing voice, as he turned his profile toward the cameras. "It's already loaded," Gervase said, nervously clutching the gun in his pocket. "Permit me to check it then." Florea put out an eager hand. Gervase executed a deft chassé in the opposite direction. "It's perfectly all right, I tell you! No one," he added in a burst of inspiration, "would have any difficulty in loading a Florea Semper Fidelis Gun." "That's right," the baffled munitions magnate admitted, falling back reluctantly. "Whether you buy the Peasant's or the Conspirator's Model, both have the same smooth free-loading mechanism...." "Out of the way, Executive," a cameraman said, unceremoniously sweeping Florea aside as Gervase paced into the Palace, followed by his two black-robed henchmen, carrying an elaborate, gold-mounted stretcher between them. "Candy, popcorn, hashish, yoghurt!" yelled a strident voice behind them. "Buy your refreshments here!" Overlord Kipp stood beside his desk, dressed in his finest uniform--which was, however, virtually invisible, it was so bedecked with glittering and sparkling medals and decorations. Gervase waited patiently while the soon-to-be-disposed-of Ruler made a speech pointing out the numerous benefits and improvements his reign had brought to the people. It was rather a long speech and Gervase's nose began to itch. He would have liked to scratch it, but the cameras were pointing directly at him. Life as Ruler, he saw, was going to be a long series of similar repressions. He sighed. But what could he do? Nobody could go against the Prognostications. Finally the speech was finished. "Good-by and good luck, Overlord Schnee," Kipp said. He stood, waiting. Gervase fired. There was a loud report. Kipp crumpled to the ground. Gervase hurled the Florea Semper Fidelis Gun to the desk. "Everyone will now please leave," he ordered in calm but firm tones, "while the removers take over." "Why can't we televise the removal?" a daring cameraman asked. "Something new." * * * * * There was a shocked silence and then a babble of indignant voices. Gervase held up a weary hand. The voices stopped. "That sort of thing just isn't done," he told the cameraman with an Olympian smile. "Please leave as quickly as possible--all of you. I might want to meditate." They scuttled out backward, the cameras still grinding. Gervase pressed the studs that shut and bolted the door. "Whew!" said Overlord Kipp, sitting up. "I didn't think I'd be able to stand that much longer. You're a good shot, Schnee--that blank stung like crazy. And in a very tender spot, I might add."