Dalgetty took the glass and gulped thirstily. It was coolness and steadiness spreading through him. The vibratto within him faded, and the headache dulled enough to be endurable. Slowly he looked around, and felt the first crawl of panic. _No!_ He suppressed the emotion with an almost physical thrust. Now was the time for calm and quick wit and-- A big man near him nodded and stuck his head out the door. "He's okay now, I guess," he called. "Want to talk to him?" Dalgetty's eyes roved the compartment. It was a rear cabin in a large airboat, luxuriously furnished with reclining seats and an inlaid table. A broad window looked out on the stairs. _Caught!_ It was pure bitterness, an impotent rage at himself. _Walked right into their arms!_ Tyler came into the room, followed by a pair of burly stone-faced men. He smiled. "Sorry," he murmured, "but you're playing out of your league, you know." "Yeah." Dalgetty shook his head. Wryness twisted his mouth. "I don't league it much either." Tyler grinned. It was a sympathetic expression. "You punsters are incurable," he said. "I'm glad you're taking it so well. We don't intend any harm to you." Skepticism was dark in Dalgetty but he managed to relax. "How'd you get onto me?" he asked. "Oh, various ways. You were pretty clumsy, I'm afraid." Tyler sat down across the table. The guards remained standing. "We were sure the Institute would attempt a counterblow and we've studied it and its personnel thoroughly. You were recognized, Dalgetty--and you're known to be very close to Tighe. So you walked after us without even a face-mask.... "At any rate, you were noticed hanging around the colony. We checked back on your movements. One of the rec girls had some interesting things to tell of you. We decided you'd better be questioned. I sounded you out as much as a casual acquaintance could and then took you to the rendezvous." Tyler spread his hands. "That's all." Dalgetty sighed and his shoulders slumped under a sudden enormous burden of discouragement. Yes, they were right. He was out of his orbit. "Well," he said, "what now?" "Now we have you _and_ Tighe," said the other. He took out a cigarette. "I hope you're somewhat more willing to talk than he is." "Suppose I'm not?" "Understand this." Tyler frowned. "There are reasons for going slow with Tighe. He has hostage value, for one thing. But you're nobody. And while we aren't monsters I for one have little sympathy to spare for your kind of fanatic." "Now there," said Dalgetty with a lift of sardonicism, "is an interesting example of semantic evolution. This being, on the whole, an easy-going tolerant period, the word 'fanatic' has come to be simply an epithet--a fellow on the other side."