"Well, now, Tom," Fawzi began piously, "the Brain is too big a thing for
a few of us to try to monopolize; it'll be for all Poictesme. Of course,
it's only proper that we, who are making the effort to locate it, should
have the direction of that effort...."

While Fawzi was talking, Rodney Maxwell went to the table, rummaged his
pistol out of the pile and buckled it on. The mayor stopped short.

"You leaving us, Rod?"

"Yes, it's getting late. Conn and I are going for a little walk; we'll
be at Senta's in half an hour. The fresh air will do both of us good and
we have a lot to talk about. After all, we haven't seen each other for
over five years."

* * * * *

They were silent, however, until they were away from the Airport
Building and walking along High Garden Terrace in the direction of the
Mall. Conn was glad; his own thoughts were weighing too heavily within
him: I didn't do it. I was going to do it; every minute, I was going to
do it, and I didn't, and now it's too late.

"That was quite a talk you gave them, son," his father said. "They
believed every word of it. A couple of times, I even caught myself
starting to believe it."

Conn stopped short. His father stopped beside him and stood looking at
him.