"No political compromise is ever totally right," said Polly. "You keep patching up things that always have flaws in them. That's how government is." She chuckled, looked up at Orne. "All right, Lewis. We accept." She glanced at Spencer, who shrugged, nodded glumly. Polly looked back at Orne. "Just answer me one question: How'd you know I was boss lady?" "Easy," said Orne. "The records we found said the ... Nathian (he'd almost said 'traitor') family on Marak was coded as _'The Head.'_ Your name, Polly, contains the ancient word _'Poll'_ which means _head_." Polly looked at Stetson. "Is he always that sharp?" "Every time," said Stetson. "If you want to go into politics, Lewis," said Polly, "I'd be delighted to--" "I'm already in politics as far as I want to be," growled Orne. "What I really want is to settle down with Di, catch up on some of the living I've missed." Diana stiffened. "I never want to see, hear _from_ or hear _of_ Mr. Lewis Orne ever again!" she said. "That is final, emphatically final!" Orne's shoulders drooped. He turned away, stumbled, and abruptly collapsed full length on the thick carpets. There was a collective gasp behind him. Stetson barked: "Call a doctor! They warned me at the hospital he was still hanging on a thin thread!" There was the sound of Polly's heavy footsteps running toward the hall. "Lew!" It was Diana's voice. She dropped to her knees beside him, soft hands fumbling at his neck, his head. "Turn him over and loosen his collar!" snapped Spencer. "Give him air!" Gently, they turned Orne onto his back. He looked pale, Diana loosed his collar, buried her face against his neck. "Oh, Lew, I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean it! Please, Lew ... please don't die! Please!" Orne opened his eyes, looked up at Spencer and Stetson. There was the sound of Polly's voice talking rapidly on the phone in the hall. He could feel Diana's cheek warm against his neck, the dampness of her tears. Slowly, deliberately, Orne winked at the two men. THE END