The General made it in less than two hours. Angus MacReedy had been shot in the back of his head the previous evening, while building model soldiers in his cellar workroom. A boy who lived next door and heard the shot while on his way to pay MacReedy a visit, had seen the murderer drive away in a black sedan. He had given the alarm and local constabulary had picked up the trail and given chase. Ignoring a red light, their quarry had been killed when his sedan was hit by a truck. He had no identification on him but appeared to be a stocky blond man of about forty. An alien pistol, recently discharged, had been found in the wreckage. The General and Toby stood alone in the strangely empty workroom. Only an ugly, dark stain on the floor remained to mark the recent violence that had occurred there. The General looked at the table, then at the boy. He said, "Toby, do you know, what your Uncle Angus was working on recently?" He felt a little ashamed thus to try to pick the brains of a murdered man through a child. "He'd been pretty busy with orders from the shop," said Toby thoughtfully. "And he'd just finished _that_." He nodded toward an unpainted lead miniature on the work-table. The General looked at it closely, and felt the blood drain from his face. He had told MacReedy to try to work out the next weapon after the guided-missile launcher.... "Are you sick, General?" Toby asked, breaking in on his abstraction. "You mustn't take it so hard, sir." "I'm--all right, Toby," he said. "It's been a bit of a shock, that's all." "It's been horrible," said Toby, his voice quite steady. "Uncle Angus was a great man. I'll never be able to be as great." "You'll never know till you try," said the General. He thought that _They_ had not forgotten--_They_ had killed him for losing _Them_ _Their_ war. It was up to him, the General, to see that Angus MacReedy's final prophecy proved false. Well, he had the power now to carry a little weight--thanks to the murdered man. Standing there in the cellar, the General made a vow to see that during his lifetime the peace was kept, to help set up some sort of organization that would keep the peace when he was gone. "Will it be okay for me to take this?" Toby had picked up the final figure and was regarding it reverently. "What? Oh, I don't see why not." He said goodby to the boy outside and got into his car for the drive back to the airfield. Hence, he didn't see Toby carry the unpainted figure the hundred yards to his house, didn't see Toby place it carefully at the end of a row of gay little figures that included Napoleon, Marlborough, Suleiman the Great, Charles XII of Sweden, Henry V, Tamerlaine, Genghis Khan, Charles Martel, Julius Caesar--and newer or perhaps older, figurines of Alexander the Great, Xerxes, Cyrus the Great, Nebuchadnezzar and a trio of even more primitive conquerors.