She took a deep breath, began to relax. "Is this about the request I made last night?" she asked. "I mean for help in this new line of research?" "In a way," said Langsmith. "But first I'd like to have you answer a question for me." He pursed his lips. "Uh ... I've never asked one of my people for just a wild guess before, but I'm going to break that rule with you. What's your guess as to why these Galactics are here?" "Guess?" "Logical assumption, then," he said. She looked down at her hands. "We've all speculated, of course. They might be scientists investigating us for reasons of their own." "Damnation!" barked the civilian beside her. Then: "Sorry, ma'm. But that's the pap we keep using to pacify the public." "And we aren't keeping them very well pacified," said Langsmith. "That group that stormed us last night called themselves the _Sons of Truth_! They had thermite bombs, and were going to attack the spaceship." "How foolish," she whispered. "How pitiful." "Go on with your guessing, Dr. Millar," said Speidel. She glanced at the general, again looked at her hands. "There's the military's idea--that they want Earth for a strategic base in some kind of space war." "It could be," said Speidel. "They could be looking for more living space for their own kind," she said. "In which case, what happens to the native population?" asked Langsmith. "They would either be exterminated or enslaved, I'm afraid. But the Galactics could be commercial traders of some sort, interested in our art forms, our animals for their zoos, our archeology, our spices, our...." She broke off, shrugged. "How do we know what they may be doing on the side ... secretly?" "Exactly!" said Speidel. He glanced sidelong at Langsmith. "She talks pretty level-headed, Smitty." "But I don't believe any of these things," she said. "What is it you believe?" asked Speidel. "I believe they're just what they represent themselves to be--representatives of a powerful Galactic culture that is immeasurably superior to our own." "Powerful, all right!" It was a marine officer at the far end of the table. "The way they cleaned off Eniwetok and swept our satellites out of the skies!" "Do you think there's a possibility they could be concealing their true motives?" asked Langsmith. "A possibility, certainly." "Have you ever watched a confidence man in action?" asked Langsmith. "I don't believe so. But you're not seriously suggesting that these...." She shook her head. "Impossible." "The _mark_ seldom gets wise until it's too late," said Langsmith. She looked puzzled. "Mark?" "The fellow the confidence men choose for a victim." Langsmith re-lighted his pipe, extinguished the match by shaking it. "Dr. Millar, we have a very painful disclosure to make to you." She straightened, feeling a sudden icy chill in her veins at the stillness in the room. "Your husband's death was not an accident," said Langsmith. She gasped, and turned deathly pale.