Dillon grinned. "Enlightened self-interest. Common sense!"

* * * * *

There was a clicking in the ceiling. A metallic voice said: "Mr.

Coburn, the conversation just overheard and recorded has to be

discussed in detail on high diplomatic levels. It will take time for

conferences--decisions--arrangements. Assuming that your guests are

acting in good faith, they have safe conduct from the villa. Their offer

is very attractive, but it will have to be passed on at high

policy-making levels."

Dillon said pleasantly, to the ceiling: "Yes. And you've got to keep it

from being public, of course, until your space ships can discover us

somewhere. It will have to be handled diplomatically, so your people are

back of a grand offer to make friends when it happens." He added wryly,

"We're very much alike, really. Coburn's very much like us. That's

why--if it's all right with you--you can arrange for him to be our point

of confidential contact. We'll keep in touch with him."

The ceiling did not reply. Dillon waited, then shrugged. The Greek

general spoke. He said that since they had come so far out from

Salonika, it was too early to leave again. It might be a good idea to

have a party. Some music would be an excellent thing. He said he liked

Earth music very much.

* * * * *

A long time later Janice and Coburn were alone in the one room of the

house which was not wired for sound. There were no microphones here.

Coburn said reluctantly in the darkness: "It sounds sensible all right.

Maybe it's true. But it feels queer to think of it...."

Janice pressed closer to him and whispered in his ear: "I made friends

with that girl who passed for Helena. I like her. She says we'll be

invited to make a trip to their planet. They can do something about the

gravity. And she says she's really going to be married to the ... person

who was with her...." She hesitated. "She showed me what they really

look like when they're not disguised as us."

Coburn put his arm around her and smiled gently. "Well? Want to tell

me?"

Janice caught her breath. "I--I could have cried.... The poor thing--to

look like that. I'm glad I look like I do. For you, darling. For you."

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ April-May 1953.

Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.

copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and

typographical errors have been corrected without note.

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