What strange customs these MacDonalds had! Yet he had to admit the meal looked more appetizing than anything he had ever seen. It gave an impression of sumptuous plenty to see the food for everybody in one place instead of individually packaged under glistening thermocel. And instead of throwaway dishes they used chinaware that could have come right out of a museum. Ursula asked, "What kind of fish is this?" Bill MacDonald answered with a big grin. "It's Royal Chinook salmon that I caught in the fish derby on the Columbia River only last--" Mrs. MacDonald colored suddenly. "You'll have to forgive Bill. He gets himself so wrapped up in his fishing." Glancing at MacDonald Philon was surprised to see the same confusion and embarrassment on his host's face. It was after dinner when Mrs. MacDonald and Jean were clearing the table that Philon looked over the library shelves. MacDonald himself appeared uneasy and hovered in the background. "You'll have to excuse my selections. They're all pretty old. I--er--inherited most of them from a grandfather." In a few minutes Philon spotted the _Smyth Report_. Fixing its position well in mind he turned away. MacDonald was saying, "Come down in the basement and I'll show you my hobby room." "Glad to." As MacDonald led the way Philon whispered to John, "You'll find the book on the second shelf from the bottom on the right side." John returned him a stony stare of belligerence and Philon clamped his jaw. The boy dropped his glance and gave a reluctant nod of acquiescence. Upstairs a half hour later Ursula, who had filled her small ashtray with a mound of stubs, suddenly told Philon she was going home. "But, Ursula, I thought that--" With thin-lipped impatience she snapped, "I just remembered I had another engagement at eight." Mrs. MacDonald was genuinely sorry. "Oh, that's too bad, I thought we could have the whole evening together." Casting a meaningful glance at John and getting a confirming cold-eyed nod in return, Philon got on his feet. "Sorry, folks. Maybe we'll get together another time." "I hope so," MacDonald said. In angry silence Philon walked home. Not until they were all in the house and Ursula was hastening toward her second-floor room did he say a word. "I suppose your 'other engagement' means the Cairo again tonight?" Ascending on the escalator Ursula turned to look scornfully over her shoulder. "Yes! Anything to escape from boredom. All that woman talked about while you were in the basement was redecorating the house or about cooking and asking my opinions. _Ugh!_" Philon laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, I guess she picked a flat number to discuss those things with. Anything you might have learned about them you must have got out of a psychoplay." Stepping off the escalator at the top Ursula spit a nasty epithet his way, then disappeared into the upstairs hall.