"It's a shock, I know," she was saying, "but you'll get over it. I know where you came from; you're a Condelarian. You've been exiled to this planet. We don't ask why you were sent here, nor what you did, nor what your real name is. What's the name on your identity card?" "Stern," he said. "John Arthur Stern. But that doesn't explain why you're here." The smile left her face. "We're all exiles here; the Group is composed entirely of exiles. We keep tabs on the prison ships that bring new offenders here, and we try to meet each one and tell them what's going on on this planet." "And who are you?" he asked. "Elizabeth Kirk is the name I was given. And as far as we are both concerned, that's my name." "Very well, Elizabeth. Now, would you kindly explain what's going on?" He didn't trust the girl. She stopped a few feet away, evidently realizing his suspicions. "Several hundred of us have been exiled here in the past few years," she explained. "We have been able to contact each other for our mutual protection. We help each other to learn to get along with the native Earthmen." "Is that all?" He felt that the Group--whatever it was--must be doing more than that. "Come with me," Elizabeth said. "I'll take you to the Group. They can explain everything. Our leader will tell you all about it." Yorkan--no, _Stern_. He'd have to think of himself as Stern from now on--Stern followed the girl out of the wooded area. There was an automobile parked near a winding ribbon of road. She got behind the wheel and started the engine. The turboelectric motor whirred softly, and the car started down the highway. "We're near Suffern, New York," the girl told him conversationally. "It's about an hour's drive from New York City itself." The names brought forth hypnotically implanted memories in Stern's mind. But he found he didn't care where he was, really; all he wanted to do was get away from this planet--to prove, somehow, that he was innocent of the crime of which he had been accused. The girl evidently sensed that her passenger didn't want to talk, because she didn't say another word during the drive into the city. Stern didn't ask any questions; he wanted to think things out for himself. Besides, he had a hunch that he wouldn't get any satisfactory answers if he did ask her questions. * * * * * It was almost dawn when the car pulled up in front of the huge glass and aluminum building at 582 Fifth Avenue. The girl parked the car and opened the door. Then she spoke for the first time in over an hour. "Shall we go in?" John Stern grinned bitterly. "I may as well; what other choice do I have?" "None, really," she said. "Come along." She produced a key to the front door of the building, twisted it in the lock, and swung open one of the glass doors. Stern followed her to the bank of elevators, where she produced another key, unlocked the elevator, and ushered him inside.