Carol MacDonald said, "You mean that not everyone can vote?" Philon looked at her in surprise. "Well, of course not. Only people of means vote--and why shouldn't they? They take the most interest in the elections and all the candidates come from the higher-middle-class of income. Anyway why should the people squawk? They took less and less interest in the elections. "When the proportion of voters turning out for elections got down to thirty percent those that did turn out passed laws disenfranchising those who hadn't voted for two Presidential elections. So if things aren't being run to suit those who lost their rights to vote they've got no one to thank but themselves." Bill MacDonald looked at his wife and said in a voice filled with incredulity, "My lord, Carol, if the people back there only knew what their careless and negligent disinterest would one day do to their country!" Philon looked from one to the other, saying, "You sound as if you were talking about the past." MacDonald said hurriedly, "I--er--was referring to the history books." That night Philon did not sleep well for the morrow would be a day he'd never forget. Even to his calloused mind the dangers involved in the exploit were considerable. In the morning he went into John's room and stood looking down at the boy, who sleepily opened his eyes. Philon said, "I'm going to be gone from my office all day. And if anyone calls or comes to see me here at the house tell him I'm sick. If necessary I'm ordering you to swear in court that I was here all day and night. Ursula's gone for the weekend to the seashore, so I'm depending on you. Do you understand?" John frowned in confusion. "You say you're sick and staying home all day?" Impatience edging his words Philon went over the explanation again. "What d'you mean 'swear in court?' What are you planning to do, Phil?" John's eyes were wide open now and full of apprehension. "Never mind what I'm doing. Just tell anybody inquiring that I'm sick at home." "You mean _lie_, eh?" Phil lifted his hand, then swung, leaving the imprint of his four fingers on the boy's left cheek. "Now do you understand?" The boy blinked back a tear and nodded wordlessly. * * * * * In the late afternoon Philon landed at Washington and under an assumed name made his way to the government building housing the big Election Tabulator. At the technical maintenance offices Philon asked, "Is Al Brant around?" "Nope. He doesn't come on duty until tomorrow." At Brant's address Philon knocked on an apartment door. Footsteps approached inside and the door was opened by a medium-sized man with black tousled hair. He appeared less than happy to see Philon. "Hello, Phil. What's on your mind?" Philon stuck out his hand. "Al, glad to see you again. I know you're not pleased to see me but let's let bygones be bygones. Can we talk?"