"Florida. To my brother's winter place. You know, I just had a thought. Tom and I are both on the board of regents of Toppinhout College down there, and there'll be an opening next quarter in the faculty. A professorship, in fact." Long grunted. "No dice. They'll have every political scientist in the country under scrutiny for years." "This is the chair of anthropology," she said. "We can change your name, and after this first excitement of your disappearance dies down--" "But I don't want it to die down!" he objected. "I thought we settled that. You've got to stay alive to talk to important people. Tom and I will round them up secretly, and you can present your case to them. My brother is the senior Senator, you know, and he's been itching to bolt the Humanist Party for the last two terms." "What can I accomplish in secret conferences? The people are the ones who must be aroused." "I know, I know, from a soapbox in Times Square, I suppose. Darling, you can't accomplish this alone. They've proved they are willing to take the chance of killing you, so they must be stronger than you think. Your facts must come to the attention of the right people. Over a period of time we can organize a truly effective underground." "Toppinhout is a girls' college." "So?" "I've never taught anthropology before." "You've never been married before, either," she pointed out, "but I predict you'll be a success at both." "Married?" Long popped his head up. * * * * * She smiled at him in the rear-view mirror. "Get your head down before you get it blown off. Yes, I said married. I'm not trusting that pug-ugly, beautiful mug of yours out of my sight from now on. And I'm afraid Tom will shoot you himself if you don't make it conventional. Tom's old-fashioned." "But--I couldn't support you on--" "A full professor's salary? Don't be foolish. Besides, I'm retiring from my agency. Selling out. That'll set us up housekeeping." That such a prosaic term as "set us up housekeeping" should send molten lava racing through his veins, did not seem strange to Dr. Hubert Long. How could a man successfully keep his mind on dying when at last a work of art like Julie seemed within his reach? He knew that his plans were irrevocably changed. * * * * * Emily Bogarth turned to the phone speaker as her assistant made the circuit and signalled to her. "On the Hubert Long mission--" the speaker said. "Mission accomplished from this end. I trust you have a likely story for the press?" "Never mind that. Did it come off as planned?" "Precisely. Your marksmen were quite effective." Emily Bogarth sighed. "Sorry to sacrifice you, honey, but the other way is just too messy." "Don't mention it. This chap has a very interesting mind. He's a challenge--in more ways than one. By the way, get word to Senator Stone, will you? Have him fly down to his winter home at once. He'll be needed. Some Party members, too."