Steve shook his head. "I'd never have passed it." "You did. Here's your seal." Morehouse showed Steve the sheet of paper giving the _Astarte_ a clean bill of health from the Guardian Patrol. "Hagen, what kind of a game are you playing?" "Game?" "Hagen--or Wrightwood?" Steve looked at Lois. Morehouse said: "She hasn't told us anything that we did not know, Wrightwood." "Look," said Steve angrily, "my name's Hagen." "How long have you had it?" asked Morehouse. "All my life. I answer to it." "We know that. Lois called at you half way across the campus and you turned; a man taking an assumed name doesn't always react to an unexpected use of it." "Look," said Steve, as angrily as before, "I've never tried to conceal the fact; all I've tried to do is ignore it. So I'm William Wrightwood Junior, according to a few dozen people who do not believe their eyes or cannot read. To my friends and to the rest of the world, I am Steve Hagen, which is the name my father and mother gave me long before I was born." Steve's eyes grew soft for a moment and he smiled in a reminiscent fashion. "I've been told that my name would have been Catherine if I'd been constructed differently." "All right, what's your game?" "Game--schmame. What do you mean?" "Hagen, why are you here and what do you hope to accomplish?" "I'm here because I want to be a Guardian." "And how is William Wrightwood fitted into this picture?" * * * * * Steve sat down suddenly. "Look, Commissioner Morehouse, if you think for one moment that I am among the Guardians so that I can cast some discredit upon them so that William Wrightwood can take over, you're much mistaken. Wrightwood can roast in hell for all of me." Steve turned and looked at Lois. "Do you believe me? Are you on my side--or have you been playing Mata Hari with my feelings?" Lois flushed. "I believe him, dad." "Thanks," said Steve drily. "Now about the Mata Hari side of it?" "Steve, forgive me; I had to know." "So now you know," he said bitterly. "And so do I." Charlemagne shrugged. "Steve does a fine enough job," he said. It came ungrudgingly. "No doubt," said Morehouse. "And somehow I doubt that Wrightwood could plan all these years to plant his son in such a manner. To make--" "Wrightwood has made pawns of everybody he could control," snapped Steve, "but I'll run my own life." "We're not running the Guardians as a method of personal revenge, either," Morehouse said. "What do you mean?" "None of us can quite justify the idea that you are planted here for sabotage. We did bring you to Base One so that we could keep an eye on you, Hagen." "Then what--?" "But granting there is no intention of sabotaging the Guardians, there is still a fine opportunity of seeing to it that William Wrightwood gets clipped." "Meaning?"