Kerwin shrugged his hunched, sloping shoulders. "I don't need the notes," he thought, trying to reassure himself--trying to drive the nameless, uncanny fear out of his heart. He walked to the television cabinet and snapped the switches. It was time to broadcast. "My friends," he began. "Today we have started the big push against the Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror. It may be that hundreds of thousands of men must die in the battle to hold this terrible enemy in check. But this cannot be helped. I have tried to do my part. I appreciate the great honor that has been bestowed upon me in making me Director of Defense. But for efficiency, I cannot go on in this manner. There is too much bickering among people who are not sincerely fighting for the welfare of humanity. I must have the means to command, and if necessary, silence these individuals. I must have full control of all the nation's resources. In this emergency, not a moment must be wasted in friction--in lack of cooperation. I have--" Kerwin's small eyes were beginning to shine, but he stopped abruptly. * * * * * Very near to him, he heard a tiny voice speaking. Its tones were like the tinkling of minute flakes of glass. It was an impossible voice, and yet a vaguely familiar one. Though it seemed close--almost at his shoulder--still it seemed, too, to be shouted from a great distance: "Interesting speech, Kerwin! Well planned! You've reached the crucial point in your scheme, huh? All right! Go on! Don't hesitate!" But Lyman Kerwin's words had broken off. He half turned. Then he remembered his audience--millions of people observing his every move by means of television. He didn't dare show any fear or disconcertion, now! The rabble must believe in him. But a cold dew of terror was breaking out on his bald pate and skinny cheeks. "I have--I think--proved my worth," he continued, stammering into the microphone. "I must not be hampered by--by the President of the United States, and by--Congress. I--" Kerwin's voice was becoming a thin squeak. "What's the matter, Kerwin?" came taunting words in those thready, elfin, confident tones. "Got stage fright or something? Don't act like that! Pull yourself together! People will start laughing at you, first thing you know!" "I--" the crooked financier gurgled, struggling to go on with his oratory from where he had left off; but nervousness seemed to have strangled him.