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In a nutshell, since you're going to be a house guest at the Bullones' we suspect Ipscott Bullone of being the head of a conspiracy to take over the government." "What do you mean take over the government?" demanded Orne. "The Galactic High Commissioner is the government subject to the Constitution and the Assemblymen who elected him."
"Don't get so interested in your work that you forget why you're out there," growled Stetson. Mrs. Bullone was a fat little mouse of a woman. She stood almost in the center of the guest room of her home, hands clasped across the paunch of a long, dull silver gown.
Orne bent to his dinner as it came out of the bubble slot beside his plate: meat in an exotic sauce, Sirik champagne, paloika au semil ... more luxury. Presently, Polly returned, resumed her seat. "Anything important?" asked Bullone. "Only a cancellation for tomorrow night. Professor Wingard is ill." "I'd just as soon it was cancelled down to the four of us," said Bullone.
For a moment, Orne saw that Stetson's suspicions could have basis in fact. Bullone might go to any lengths to maintain this luxury. Orne's entrance had interrupted an argument between Polly and her husband. They welcomed him, went right on without inhibition. Rather than embarrassing him, this made him feel more at home, more accepted.
"I've kept the list to fifty." Diana straightened, said: "This is an important election Daddy! How could you possibly relax? There're seventy-three seats in question ... the whole balance. If things go wrong in just the Alkes sector ... why ... you could be sent back to the floor. You'd lose your job as ... why ... someone else could take over as " "Welcome to the job," said Bullone.
"You're to consider yourself one of the family." Orne looked around at the Bullone guest room: low key furnishings with an old-fashioned selectacol for change of decor. A polawindow looked out onto an oval swimming pool, the glass muted to dark blue. It gave the outside a moonlight appearance.
"But I'm not running for office this time," said Bullone patiently. "Why do we have to clutter up the evening with that many people just to " "Our election night parties are traditional," said Polly. "Well, I'd just like to relax quietly at home tomorrow," he said. "Take it easy with just the family here and not have to " "It's not like it was a big party," said Polly.
Mind as I saide before, don't put your foot in it. I send you a Nap in the Seele all I can spare. "Yours, "JEREMIAH SMITH. "Direct to me, Monsieur Smith always a safe name Ship Inn, Bullone." "Jeremiah Smith Jeremiah!" "Do you know the name then?" said Mr. Barlow.
"I guess your mother and I shared ideas when we were in school," said Polly. "We were very close friends." "You must've been to do all this for me," said Orne. "I don't know how I'm ever going to " "Ah! Here we are!" A deep masculine voice boomed from the open door behind Orne. He turned, saw Ipscott Bullone, High Commissioner of the Marakian League.
"That makes me homesick," said Orne. "Oh!" She whirled, gasped, then smiled. "You startled me. I thought I was alone." "Sorry. I was enjoying the music." "I'm Diana Bullone," she said. "You're Mr. Orne." "Lew to all of the Bullone family, I hope," he said. "Of course ... Lew." She gestured at the musical instrument. "This is very old. Most find its music ... well, rather weird.
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