"Harmless!" Ludovick repeated. "Why, I understand they've already tried to--to attack the Blue Tower by _force_!" "Quite. And failed. For we are protected from hostile forces, as you were told earlier, by the power of love." Ludovick knew, of course, that the Belphin used the word _love_ metaphorically, that the Tower was protected by a series of highly efficient barriers of force to repel attackers--barriers which, he realized now, from the sad fate of Mieczyslaw and George, were potentially lethal. However, he did not blame the Belphin for being so cagy about his race's source of power, not with people like the Flockharts running about subverting and whatnot. "You certainly do have a wonderful intercommunication system," he murmured. "Everything about us is wonderful," the Belphin said noncommittally. "That's why we're so good to you people. Be happy!" And he was off. But Ludovick could not be happy. He wasn't precisely sad yet, but he was thoughtful. Of course the Belphins knew better than he did, but still.... Perhaps they underestimated the seriousness of the Flockhart conspiracy. On the other hand, perhaps it was he who was taking the Flockharts too seriously. Maybe he should investigate further before doing anything rash. Later that night, he slipped over to the Flockhart villa and nosed about in the courtyard until he found the window behind which the family was conspiring. He peered through a chink in the curtains, so he could both see and hear. Corisande was saying, "And so I think there is a lot in what Ludovick said...." Bless her, he thought emotionally. Even in the midst of her plotting, she had time to spare a kind word for him. And then it hit him: _she, too, was a plotter_. "You suggest that we try to turn the power of love against the Belphins?" the uncle asked ironically. Corisande gave a rippling laugh as she twirled her glittering pendant. "In a manner of speaking," she said. "I have an idea for a secret weapon which might do the trick----" * * * * * At that moment, Ludovick stumbled over a jug which some careless relative had apparently left lying about the courtyard. It crashed to the tesserae, spattering Ludovick's legs and sandals with a liquid which later proved to be extremely red wine. "There's someone outside!" the uncle declared, half-rising. "Nonsense!" Corisande said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I didn't hear anything." The uncle looked dubious, and Ludovick thought it prudent to withdraw at this point. Besides, he had heard enough. Corisande--his Corisande--was an integral part of the conspiracy.