"Mr. Grabinett cannot be reached in his office," the secretary reported in a suppressed voice that soothed Audibon. "Mr. Bleutcher cannot be contacted in Brockton. I left word that you called." "Word is too little and too late. Keep trying for both." "Yes, Mr. Audibon. John Macro is waiting to see you." "Macro? By appointment?" "Yes, Mr. Audibon. You told me to--" "Send him in." For a man who was not in the business, John Macro was the most hated man in the business. He was a Maryland manufacturer who had taken it upon himself to cleanse radio and television of subversive artists. To this he devoted his patriotic heart and ample bank account. Once a month Mr. Macro came to The Rock and purged. He was in no way equipped for the job, intellectually or otherwise. In normal times his impertinent intrusions would have been brushed as contemptuously as Mr. Macro himself would have brushed any unqualified intruder attempting to tell him how to do his own thinking; but these were not normal times. Honest John came to The Rock and studied the reports of his researchers who were mostly free-lance trade journal writers playing detective. He learned that so-and-so had once signed a petition. He ferreted out the fact that a certain man was known to have supported a particular drive; that this woman had lent her name to such-and-such a cause. Mr. Macro judged and accused, and such was the hysteria of the times that mere accusation was enough to make the world draw aside the hem of its garment in terror and hound the victim out of the business. Mr. Macro was a good man and a sincere man. Unfortunately he was also a Square. He believed he was doing his duty as a citizen. Actually, he was a child playing with a gun. He entered Audibon's office with the air of a Roman Tribune. He was very bald, very handsome, with a leaden complexion and kindly features. He carried an alligator portfolio which he unlocked ceremoniously after he shook hands with Audibon. He withdrew a short list of names. "For these," he said melodiously, "I have proof positive." He produced a dossier of stapled sheets, handed it to Audibon and then seated himself in a Queen Anne chair and waited majestically. Audibon read the list of names and then the proof positive. He smiled at Macro without liking. "This isn't proof," he said, "and it isn't positive." "Every organization cited there has been listed by the Attorney General's office, Mr. Audibon." Audibon shook his head. "But it's not _prima facie_-type evidence." "Straws show how the wind blows." "God help us if we're judged by straws like this." "Good Heavens! I'm not judging, Mr. Audibon. Far be it from me to judge my fellow citizens. Let the evidence speak for itself. If I'm wrong, as I sincerely hope I am, these persons can easily clear themselves."