Outside the hospital, clouds obscured Marak's green sun. It was midmorning. A cold spring wind bent the pile lawn, tugged fitfully at the border plantings of exotic flowers around the hospital's landing pad. Orne paused on the steps above the pad, breathed deeply of the chill air. "Beautiful day," he said. Stetson reached out a hand to help Orne down the steps, hesitated, put the hand back in his pocket. Beneath the section chief's look of weary superciliousness there was a note of anxiety. His big features were set in a frown. The drooping eyelids failed to conceal a sharp, measuring stare. Orne glanced at the sky to the southwest. "The flitter ought to be here any minute." A gust of wind tugged at his cape. He staggered, caught his balance. "I _feel_ good." "You look like something left over from a funeral," growled Stetson. "Sure--my funeral," said Orne. He grinned. "Anyway, I was getting tired of that walk-around-type morgue. All my nurses were married." "I'd almost stake my life that I could trust you," muttered Stetson. Orne looked at him. "No, no, Stet ... stake _my_ life. I'm used to it." Stetson shook his head. "No, dammit! I trust you, but you deserve a peaceful convalescence. We've no right to saddle you with--" "Stet?" Orne's voice was low, amused. "Huh?" Stetson looked up. "Let's save the noble act for someone who doesn't know you," said Orne. "You've a job for me. O.K. You've made the gesture for your conscience." Stetson produced a wolfish grin. "All right. So we're desperate, and we haven't much time. In a nutshell, since you're going to be a house guest at the Bullones'--we suspect Ipscott Bullone of being the head of a conspiracy to take over the government." "What do you mean--_take over the government_?" demanded Orne. "The Galactic High Commissioner _is_ the government--subject to the Constitution and the Assemblymen who elected him." "We've a situation that could explode into another Rim War, and we think he's at the heart of it," said Stetson. "We've eighty-one touchy planets, all of them old-line steadies that have been in the League for years. And on every one of them we have reason to believe there's a clan of traitors sworn to overthrow the League. Even on your home planet--Chargon." "You want me to go home for my convalescence?" asked Orne. "Haven't been there since I was seventeen. I'm not sure that--" "No, dammit! We want you as the Bullones' house guest! And speaking of that, would you mind explaining how they were chosen to ride herd on you?" "There's an odd thing," said Orne. "All those gags in the I-A about old Upshook Ipscott Bullone ... and then I find that his wife went to school with my mother." "Have you met Himself?" "He brought his wife to the hospital a couple of times."