seen more than a few facets of the Supervisor's personality: the real Karellen was unknown and perhaps unknowable to human beings. And once again Stormgren had the feeling that the Supervisor's real interests were elsewhere, and that he ruled Earth with only a fraction of his mind, as effortlessly as a master of three-dimensional chess might play a game of draughts.
"And after that?" asked Stormgren softly.
"Then we can begin our real work."
"I have often wondered what that might be. Tidying up our world and civilizing the human race is only a means-you must have an end as well. Will we ever be able to come out into space and see your universe-perhaps even help you in your tasks?"
"You can put it that way," said Karellen-and now his voice held a clear yet inexplicable note of sadness that left Stormgren strangely perturbed.
"But suppose, after all, your experiment fails with Man? We have known such things in our own dealings with primitive human races. Surely you have your failures too?"
"Yes," said Karellen, so softly that Stormgren could scarcely hear him. "We have had our failures."
"And what do you do then?"
'We wait-and try again."
There was a pause lasting perhaps five seconds. When Karellen spoke again, his words were so unexpected that for a moment Stormgren did not react.
"Good-bye, Rikki!"
Karellen had tricked him-probably it was already too late. Storrngren's paralysis lasted only a moment. Then, with a single swift, well-practised movement, he whipped out the flash gun and jammed it against the glass.
52
The pine trees came almost to the edge of the lake, leaving along its border only a narrow strip of grass a few metres wide.
Every evening when it was warm enough Stormgren, despite
his ninety years, would walk along this strip to the landing-
stage, watch the sunlight die upon the water, and then return to the house before the chill night wind came up from the forest. The simple ritual gave him much contentment, and he would continue it as long as he had the strength.
Far away over the lake something was coming in from the
west, flying low and fast. Aircraft were uncommon in these
parts, unless one counted the trans-polar liners which must be
passing overhead every hour of the day and night. But there
was never any sign of their presence, save an occasional vapour trail high against the blue of the stratosphere. This machine was a small helicopter, and it was coming towards him with obvious determination. Stormgren glanced along the beach
and saw that there was no chance of escape. Then he shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the wooden bench at the head of the jetty.
The reporter was so deferential that Stormgren found it surprising. He had almost forgotten that he was not only an elder statesman but, outside his own country, almost a mythical figure.
"Mr. Stormgren," the intruder began, "I'm very sorry to bother you, but I wonder if you'd care to comment on something we've just heard about the Overlords."
Stormgren frowned slightly. After all these years, he still shared Karellen's dislike for that word.
"I do not think," he said, "that I can add a great deal to what has been written elsewhere."
The reporter was watching him with a curious intentness.
"I thought that you might. A rather strange story has just come to our notice. It seems that, nearly thirty years ago, one of the Science Bureau's technicians made some remarkable equipment for you. We wondered if you could tell us anything about it."
For a moment Stormgren was silent, his mind going back into the past. He was not surprised that the secret had been discovered. Indeed, it was surprising that it had been kept so tong.
He rose to his feet and began to walk back along the jetty, the reporter following a few paces behind.
53
"The story," he said, "contains a certain amount of truth. On my last visit to Karellen's ship I took some apparatus with
me, in the hope that I might be able to see the Supervisor. It
was rather