"He needs no assistance?"
"Nothing could help him for half an hour or more. Then he'll probably
have a severe headache."
The extraterrestrial had even the ability to achieve a dry quality in
his voice. "I am surprised at your forebearance." He took a chair
before a baroque desk. "Undoubtedly you have gone through a great deal
to penetrate to this point. I am a member of the interplanetary
delegation. What is it that you want?"
Hank looked at Loo, received a slight nod, and went into his speech.
The space alien made no attempt to interrupt.
When Hank had finished, the extraterrestrial turned his eyes to Loo.
"And you?"
Loo said, "I represent the British Commonwealth rather than the United
States, but my purpose in contacting you was identical. Her Majesty's
government is anxious to consult with you before you make any binding
agreements with the Soviet complex."
The alien turned his eyes from one to the other. His face, Hank
decided, had a Lincolnesque quality, so ugly as to be beautiful in its
infinite sadness.
"You must think us incredibly naive," he said.
Hank scowled. He had adjusted quickly to the space ambassador's
_otherness_, both of dress and physical qualities, but there was an
irritating something--He put his finger on it. He felt as he had, some
decades ago, when brought before his grammar school principal for an
infraction of school discipline.
Hank said, "We haven't had too much time to think. We've been
desperate."
The alien said, "You have gone to considerable trouble. I can even
admire your resolution. You will be interested to know that tomorrow
we take ship to Peiping."
"Peiping?" Loo said blankly.
"Following two weeks there we proceed to Washington and following that
to London. What led your governments to believe that the Soviet
nations were to receive all our attention, and your own none at all?"