In his room, Wesley sat with his unopened packet in his hand and thought gray thoughts. It was one thing to plod dutifully to doom because of loyalty to his Aunt Jessica and an unwillingness to hurt Miriam, but another matter entirely to be maneuvered into a selfish solution of their problems. Miriam wanted security, however obtained. His Aunt Jessica wanted retirement with the income that would continue to roll in as long as the inn remained under Miriam's capable hand. The two of them had arranged it all between them as calmly as they might have made up a grocery list. "Sucker," Wesley said. "If there were a way out--" Because there was none he let it drop and opened his latest brochure. The planet of Sonimuira circled a star listed as Beta Aquilae, Alschain. Details of distance and placement meant nothing to the electrified Wesley; what did register was that Herif, in venturing that he would like Sonimuira, had made a galactic understatement. One look sent Wesley headlong to town in his Aunt Jessica's car. Returning an hour later, he ripped his small armful of travelogues to pieces and--except for one page that fell behind his desk--burned them in the backyard incinerator. Then he disappeared in the direction of Sampson's Creek. * * * * * It was not until the middle of July, when the estate was settled and Miss Jessica Filburn was securely domiciled with her sister in California and Charlie Birdsall and Miriam had married and moved into the inn, that any light was shed upon Wesley's going. Then Charlie, in moving out Wesley's desk to furnish a new guest room, found the final page of the Sonimuiran booklet and set up a cry that brought Miriam, dust-capped and aproned, on the run. "This is where Wes went," Charlie said. Miriam pored without comprehension over the lone page. "How do you know?" "He got these folders all along from some vacation club," Charlie explained. "Must have paid his passage in advance, because this one had tear-off tickets at the bottom.... Where else would he go?" Miriam sniffed critically at a picture showing a smiling bevy of girls disporting themselves against a lush semi-tropical background. Charlie took back the page. "Can't tell where the place is, but it says here that the climate is about like Samoa's, that there's no trade or industry and that the population--get this!--is ninety-four and six tenths female. Even Wes should do all right for himself there." "He'll be back," Miriam said. "He can't stay long in a place as expensive as that." Charlie snorted in disgust. "Would he come back after having Judge Talbot draw up a paper leaving his bank account to Miss Jessica and his half of the inn to me, and then disappearing with nothing but a bathing suit and a pair of sun glasses?" "He could still come back," Miriam said stubbornly. An irregularity at the bottom of the page caught Charlie's eye and settled the issue.