"And you Marvalli?" Bejamel's voice shook a little despite his efforts to control it. From Marvalli's expression he feared the worst. "Columbia has been unable to provide its quota of special foods for forty-eight hours, and all its reserves have been destroyed." In a voice filled with foreboding, he told his story, wringing his hands from time to time, unconscious of doing it. Weiman was next. He gave a minute account of depredations in Perdura. "And so," he finished in an anguished voice, "we not only have no Bagazo for the amnesiac treatment ... we are unable to procure any, and even if we had it, the machinery is a shambles, Excellency!" His voice ended in a wail. On and on the audience continued, each account adding to the seriousness of the situation. At last Bejamel rose. His face was inscrutable. "What a gargantuan indigestion His Benevolence is going to have today," he thought grimly. "Remain!" He exclaimed peremptorily, and strode in the direction of the enchanted garden. * * * * * He didn't even pause to watch the gyrations and posturings of Virgins of the Sacred Flame. Brushing aside the tall Intermediates that stood guard over the recumbent form of His Benevolence, he bowed slightly, and in a cold, tight voice explained his mission. "Your Benevolence," his voice never had been lovelier, "the empire is in open revolt. We are not facing isolated cases of vandalism. Nor the underground opposition of the Irreconcilables. This is a fiendishly planned and perfectly executed strategy of destruction. Unless we meet it with overwhelming force, we lose control of the empire!" "Don't exaggerate, Bejamel!" His Benevolence snorted disdainfully. "A few vats have been shattered--others can be made. Bagazo has been destroyed ... we'll get all we need from the forests, and later have our chemists synthesize the drug. Just issue the necessary orders, I can't be bothered now." Bejamel's smile was feline, and feral lights gleamed in the eyes that gave him such a gargoylish expression amidst his twisted features. "No, Effulgence. This calls for a meeting of the Inner Circle. You may not know it, but hundreds of thousands of amnesiacs, now deprived of the drug, _remember_! Death to them is a boon, and before they die they will be sure to take as many of us as possible. And _they are being armed_!" "Let a few thousand die!" He exclaimed heartlessly. "They'll pave my new Hall of Rubies!" But he knew now that Bejamel was not exaggerating. The great intellect of the evil ruler, had grasped the disastrous consequences of such a revolt, and instantly he acted.