"Wait a minute, gentlemen." He finished the brandy, and held out the
glass to Tom Brangwyn, nodding toward the pitcher. Even the first drink
had warmed him and he could feel the constriction easing in his throat
and the lump at the pit of his stomach dissolving. "I hope none of you
expect me to spread out a map and show you the cross on it, where the
Brain is. I can't. I can't even give the approximate location of the
thing."

Much of the happy eagerness drained out of the faces around him. Some of
them were looking troubled; Colonel Zareff was gnawing the bottom of his
mustache, and Judge Ledue's hand shook as he tried to relight his cigar.
Conn stole a quick side-glance at his father; Rodney Maxwell was
watching him curiously, as though wondering what he was going to say
next.

"But it is still here on Poictesme?" Fawzi questioned. "They didn't take
it away when they evacuated, did they?"

Conn finished his second drink. This time he picked up the pitcher and
refilled for himself.

"I'm going to have to do a lot of talking," he said, "and it's going to
be thirsty work. I'll have to tell you the whole thing from the
beginning, and if you start asking questions at random, you'll get me
mixed up and I'll miss the important points."

"By all means!" Judge Ledue told him. "Give it in your own words, in
what you think is the proper order."

"Thank you, Judge."