Leaving the office he descended to the streets and set out for the party headquarters. Now if only he could sell the neat little idea to the hierarchy.... At the luxurious marbled headquarters he asked to be let into the general chairman's office. The receptionist announced him and Philon walked in to find Rakoff awaiting him behind his beautiful carved desk. Rakoff's dead-white cheeks never stirred and his stiff blond hair stood up in a rigid crew cut. He rolled his cigar in his big mouth. "Hello, Miller. What's on your mind?" Philon took a breath and it seemed to him now that this idea was a crazy one. "I came to tell you I'm unable to raise my fifty grand quota, Rakoff." The man's brows moved slightly and his eyes narrowed significantly. With a rasp in his voice he said deliberately, "That's too bad, Mr. Miller--for you." The rasping tongue put a faint quaver in Philon's voice but he went on. "However, I've brought you an idea that's worth more than fifty grand. It's worth millions." Rakoff's eyes hardly blinked. "I'm listening--you're talking." And Philon talked, talked rapidly and convincingly. When he finished Rakoff slapped his fat thigh in excitement. That evening Philon dropped in on Bill MacDonald, who was sitting in his slippers smoking an old fashioned wood pipe. "Come in, come in." MacDonald greeted him with a friendly smile. "I was just doing a little reading." Philon held out the book. "I'm returning your masterpiece," he said with a sardonic smile. MacDonald received it, glancing at the title. "Oh, Smyth's _Atomic Energy_. Good book--did you find it interesting?" * * * * * Philon began to laugh. "Well, I'll tell you, Bill, your little racket of having spurious first editions printed some place and then peddling them sure caught up with me." The good-natured smile on MacDonald's face faded in a look of incredulity. He took the pipe from his mouth. "Spurious first editions?" "Yeah, I sure took a beating today but I couldn't help laughing over it afterwards. Here I've been thinking of you folks as simon-pure numbers. But I got to hand it to you. You sure took me in with Smyth's _Atomic Energy_ as being a genuine first edition." Philon went on to explain the radiocarbon dating of the book. MacDonald finally broke in to protest, "But that book really _is_ over a hundred years old." Then he looked up at his wife. "Of course, Carol, that's the explanation. The radiocarbon wouldn't decay a full hundred years any more than we...." Suddenly, he seemed to catch himself, as his wife raised a hand in apparent agitation. "But why did you want to sell my book to a dealer?" MacDonald continued. Philon went on to explain the system of the poll quota. He told him a lot of other things too about the election of a President and the organized political machines that levied upon all registered voters what amounted to a checkoff of their incomes.