Ronny Bronston put his ear to the door. The building was primitive enough, rustic enough in its construction, to permit his hearing. Tog Lee Chang Chu was saying seriously, “Oh, it was chaotic all right, but no, I don’t really believe it could have been a Tommy Paine case. Actually I’d suggest to you that you run over to Catalina. When I was on Avalon I heard rumors that Tommy Paine’s finger seemed to be stirring around in the mess there. Yes, I’d recommend that you take off for Catalina immediately. If Paine is anywhere in this vicinity at all, it would be Catalina.” For a moment, Ronny Bronston froze. Then in automatic reflex his hand went inside his jacket to rest over the butt of the Model H automatic there. No, that wasn’t the answer. His hand dropped away from the gun. He listened, further. Another voice was saying, “We thought we were on the trail for a while on Hector, but it turned out it wasn’t Paine. Just a group of local agitators fed up with the communist regime there. There’s going to be a blood bath on Hector, before they’re through, but it doesn’t seem to be Paine’s work this time.” Tog’s voice was musing. “Well, you never know, it sounds like the sort of muck he likes to play in.” The strange voice said argumentatively, “Well, Hector _needs_ a few fundamental changes.” “It could be,” Tog said, “but that’s their internal affairs, of course. Our job in Section G is to prevent troubles between the differing socio-economic and religious features of member planets. Whatever we think of some of the things Paine does, our task is to get him.” ------------------------------------- Ronny Bronston pushed the door open and went through. Tog Lee Chang Chu was sitting at a desk, nonchalant and petitely beautiful as usual, comfortably seated in easy-chairs were two young men by their attire probably citizens of United Planets and possibly even Earthlings. “Hello, Ronny,” Tog said softly. “Meet Frederic Lippman and Pedro Nazaré, both Section G operatives. This is my colleague, Ronald Bronston, gentlemen. Fredric and Pedro were just leaving, Ronny.” The two agents got up to shake hands. Ronny said, “You can’t be in that much of a hurry. What’s your assignment, boys?” Lippman, an earnest type, and by his appearance not more than twenty-five or so years of age, began to answer, but Nazaré said hurriedly, “Actually, it’s a confidential assignment. We’re working directly out of the Octagon.” Lippman said, frowning, “It’s not that confidential, Tog. Bronston’s an agent, too. What’s your assignment, Ronny?” Ronny said very slowly, “I’m beginning to suspect that it’s the same as yours and various pieces are beginning to fall into place.” Lippman was taken aback. “You mean you’re looking for Tommy Paine?” His eyes went to his associate. “How could that be, Tog? I didn’t know more than one of us were on this job. Why, that means if Bronston here finds him first, I won’t get my permanent appointment.”