He was sitting erect. He was clammy with icy perspiration. His whole body was suddenly silent and listening, every muscle and nerve strained in the direction of the hunt. He lay back. No, he thought. * * * * * The next day the Oligarch called him in. "I want to thank you again, Herb." He watched his words sink into naked flesh. "If you had not told me, I would never have suspected. But for you, he--he might have succeeded." Herb refused to look into the Oligarch's face. I did right, he thought. I did what I had to do, what anyone would have done. "I know it has been a shock," the Oligarch said. "You were very fond of William." Herb's lips twisted silently. "I want to tell you a story," the Oligarch said. "Listen, listen carefully. It is about a man called Bud and what he did." Herb was not listening; and then suddenly he was listening. The Oligarch told the story, and when he was done, leaned forward, waiting. It was as if Herb had just heard the most important story in the world. "His brother's head," the Oligarch whispered, "he traded his brother's head for power...." There was something about the idea that reached deep into the ancient folk shadows of Herb's mind and stood as a symbol. But he did not understand about symbols: only their compulsive effects. All his rage and frustration and guilt crystalized around Bud. If he could only see Bud fall and gasp and die, he would have vindicated morality and done all that he could do in the name and cause of justice. "You may go," the Oligarch said. "Think about what I've told you." CHAPTER VIII Norma missed Herb. There was the glamor of the unknown about him and the appeal of the familiar. He was two individuals, a little boy, confused and puzzled and mute and needing her, and a man, strong and wise and belonging to a strange world she could not enter as she had entered all too easily the masculine world of Earth. She was with Frank when Bud made his television announcement. Bud beamed happily in the glare of uncounted millions of dollars of publicity. "At my invitation," he said, "the starmen have consented to return." Frank winced to see what he thought to be a decent cause advancing the personal fortunes of a fool, a hypocrite, and a coward. Bud--it was a little difficult to imagine (without having heard it) how he managed it--at the high point of his speech inserted a few remarks about home, mother, and the virtues of honesty and hard work. He was, he explained, a poor but honest man, holding certain principles dear to his heart. He was at a loss to account for the fact that he had been chosen to lead this great crusade for the starmen. "We can thank All Mighty God that they have consented to return. _They will return._ I do not believe there are enough Communists in the country today to prevent it."