"It is. We'll keep you informed. Drop your contribution in the slot
provided for that purpose as you leave."
A door, which he hadn't noticed in entering the counselling cubicle,
swung open. The agency was efficient.
"Remember," the counselor called out as he left, "identification is
hard to work with. Don't accept a crude forgery."
He didn't answer, but it was an idea worth considering. The agency was
also eminently practical.
The exit path guided him firmly to an inconspicuous and yet inescapable
contribution station. He began to doubt the philanthropic aspect of the
bureau.
* * * * *
"I've got it," said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum the
first counselor had named.
"Got what?" asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle,
attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.
"The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner."
"What's a Huntner?"
"A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizing
about her home planet when I managed to locate her."
"Any other information?"
"None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reached
her. I got out as fast as I could."
"I see." The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless,
it sounded depressing.
"What I want to know is," said Dimanche, "why such precautions as
electronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?"
Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyingly
inquisitive at times.
Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out on
the other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old man
was staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changed
every sign in the building. His work finished, the technician was
removing the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him.
He turned and peered.
"You stuck here, too?" he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.
"Stuck?" repeated Cassal. "I suppose you can call it that. I'm waiting
for my ship." He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions.
"Why all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency.
Why did you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agency
were new."
The old man chuckled. "Re-organization. The previous first counselor
resigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new one
didn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed."