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It still wasn't perfect, but it was gettingcloser. He continued:

  "_To pile upon the ashes Of races in decease Such citadels of our kind's own As fortify no--_"

  "What are you doing, David?" his wife asked over his shoulder.

  Flinching, he pulled the notebook closer into his lap, bending forwardin an instinctive effort to protect it.

  The warm, loving, sawing voice went on. "Are you writing another poem,David? Why, I thought you'd given that up!"

  "It's ... it's nothing, really, uh ... Leonora. Nothing much. Just a ...a thing I've had running around my head. Wanted to get rid of it."

  His wife leaned over and kissed his cheek clumsily. "Why, you old bigdear! I'll bet it's for me. Isn't it, David? Isn't it for me?"

  He shook his head in almost desperate regret. "I'm ... I'm afraid not,uh--" Snorer. "It's about something else, Leonora."

  "Oh." She came around the chair, and he furtively wiped his cheek witha hasty hand. She sat down facing him, smiling with entreaty. "Would youread it to me anyway, David? Please, dear?"

  "Well, it's not ... not finished yet--not right."

  "You don't have to, David. It's not important. Not really." She sigheddeeply.

  He picked up the notebook, his breath cold in his constricted throat."All right," he said, the words coming out huskily, "I'll read it. Butit's not finished yet."

  "If you don't want to--"

  * * * * *

  He began to read hurriedly, his eyes locked on the notebook, his voice asuppressed hoarse, spasmodic whisper.

  "_Such citadels of our kind's own As fortify no peace._

  "_No wall can offer shelter, No roof can shield from pain. We cannot rest; we are the damned; We must go forth again._

  "_Unnumbered we must--_"

  "David, are you sure about those last lines?" She smiled apologetically."I know I'm old-fashioned, but couldn't you change that? It seems so ...so harsh. And I think you may have unconsciously borrowed it fromsomeone else. I can't help thinking I've heard it before, somewhere?Don't you think so?"

  "I don't know, dear. You may be right about that word, but it doesn'treally matter, does it? I mean, I'm not going to try to get itpublished, or anything."

  "_I_ know, dear, but still--"

  He was looking at her desperately.

  "I'm sorry, dear!" she said contritely. "Please go on. Don't pay anyattention to my stupid comments."

  "They're not stupid--"

  "Please, dear. Go on."

  His fingers clamped on the edge of the notebook.

  "_Unnumbered we must wander, Break, and bleed, and die. Implacable as ocean, Our tide must drown the sky._

  "_What is our expiation, For what primeval crime, That we must go on marching Until the crash of time?_

  "_What hand has shaped so cruelly? What whim has cast such fate? Where is, in our creation, The botch that makes us great?_"

  "Oh, that's good, darling! That's very good. I'm proud of you, David."

  "I think it stinks," he said evenly, "but, anyway, there are two moreverses."

  "_David!_"

  Grimly, he spat out the last eight lines.

  "_Why are we ever gimleted By empire's irony? Is discontent the cancered price Of Earthman's galaxy?_"

  Leonora, recoiling from his cold fury, was a shaking pair of shouldersand a mass of lank hair supported by her hands on her face while shesobbed.

  "_Are our souls so much perverted? Can we not relent? Or are the stars the madman's cost For his inborn discontent?_

  "Good night, Leonora."

  VI.

  The light flickered on Marlowe's interphone.

  "Good morning, Mr. Secretary."

  "Good morning, Mary. What's up?"

  "Harrison's being deported from Dovenil, sir. There's a civil crimecharged against him. Quite a serious one."

  Marlowe's eyebrows went up. "How much have we got on it?"

  "Not too much, sir. Harrison's report hasn't come in yet. But thestory's on the news broadcasts now, sir. We haven't been asked tocomment yet, but Emigration has been called by several news outlets, andthe Ministry for Education just called here and inquired whether itwould be all right to publish a general statement of their exchangestudents' careful instructions against violating local customs."

  Marlowe's glance brooded down on the mass of papers piled in the tray ofhis IN box. "Give me a tape of a typical broadcast," he said at last."Hold everything else. Present explanation to all news outlets: Nonenow, statement forthcoming after preliminary investigation later in theday. The Ministry regrets this incident deeply, and will try to settlematters as soon and as amicably as possible, et cetera, et cetera.O.K.?"

  "Yes, sir."

  He swung his chair around to face the screen let into a side wall, andcolors began to flicker and run in the field almost immediately. Theysteadied and sharpened, and the broadcast tape began to roll.

  Dateline: Dovenil, Sector Three, Day 183, 2417 GST. Your Topical News reporter on this small planet at the Union's rim was unable today to locate for comment any of the high officials of this alien civilization directly concerned with the order for the deportation of exchange student-observer Hubert Harrison, charged with theft and violent assault on the person of a Dovenilid citizen. Union citizen Harrison was unavailable for comment at this time, but Topical News will present his views and such other clues when more ensues.

  Marlowe grunted. Journalese was getting out of hand again. That lastrhyming sentence was sure to stick in the audience's brains. It might beonly another advertising gimmick, but if they started doing it with thebody of the news itself, it might be well to feed Topical enough falseleads to destroy what little reputation for comprehensibility they hadleft.

  He touched his interphone switch.

  "Uh ... Mary, what was the hooper on that broadcast?"

  "Under one per cent, sir."

  Which meant that, so far, the Body Politic hadn't reacted.

  "Thank you. Is there anything else coming in?"

  "Not at the moment, sir."

  "What's--" Cabbage. "What's Dalish ud Klavan doing?"

  "His residence is the Solar Hostel, sir. The management reports that heis still in his room, and has not reserved space on any form oflong-distance transportation. He has not contacted us, either, and thereis a strong probability that he may still be unaware of what'shappened."

  "How many calls did he make yesterday, either before or after he washere, and to whom?"

  "I can get you a list in ten minutes, sir."

  "Do that, Mary."

  He switched off, sat slapping the edge of his desk with his hand, andswitched on again.

  "Mary, I want the GenSurvs on the Dovenil area to a depth of ten cubiclights."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And get me Mr. Mead on the phone, please."

  "Yes, sir."

  Marlowe's lips pulled back from his teeth as he switched off. Hesnatched a candy bar out of his drawer, tore the film part way off, thenthrew it back in the drawer as his desk phone chimed.

  "Here, Chris."

  "Here, Mr. Marlowe."

  "Look, Chris--has Holliday left Earth yet?"

  "Yes, sir. Yes, Dave."

  "Where is he?"

  "Luna, en route to Karlshaven. He was lucky enough to have me arrangefor his accidentally getting a ride on a GenSurv ship that happened tobe going out that way, if you follow me." Mead grinned.

  "Get him back."

  The smile blanked out. "I can't do that, Mr. Marlowe! He'd never be ableto take it. You should have seen him when I put him on the shuttle. Wedoped him up with EasyRest, and even then his subconscious could _feel_the bulkheads around him, even in his sleep. Those shuttles are small,and they don't have ports."

  "We can't help that. We need him, and I've got to talk to him first.Personally."

  Mead bit his lip. "Yes, sir."r />
  "Dave."

  "Yes ... Dave."

  VII.

  Dalish ud Klavan sat easily in his chair opposite Marlowe. He rested onedigit on his notebook and waited.

  "Ud Klavan," Marlowe said amiably, "you're undoubtedly aware by now thatyour opposite number on Dovenil has been charged with a civil crime anddeported."

  The Dovenilid nodded. "An unfortunate incident. One that I