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must be refuted. Do you not agree?”
    “Yes. Yes, I agree. Definitely.”
    “We can serve both these ends by arranging a visit to Rlaru by a group of representative musicians.”
    Gondar gave a sour wince. “For reasons of my own I do not care to leave Earth. Not at the present time.”
    “Then I can only turn the money I control over to some worthy charity. In no other way can I demonstrate our integrity.”
    Gondar thought with great concentration, then heaved a long sigh of resignation. “Very well. Organize your tour. There can be no harm in it.”
    “Good. I am sure that the Opera League will enthusiastically support the project.”

     
    Dame Isabel was mistaken. To her amazement the directors of the Opera League refused any sort of sponsorship to the project. “We have our dignity to consider,” said Stillman Cordwainer, the chairman. “I have it on reliable authority that Adolph Gondar is a mountebank. In my opinion we should repudiate him completely, and in the future use more caution.”
    “I agree in every respect,” declared Bruno Brunofsky. “Next we’ll be asked to sponsor a troupe of dancing bears.”
    Dame Isabel spoke in her iciest voice. “It is clear that the Directors have decided to scamp their responsibilities. I consider the policy of the Board insipid, sterile, callous and stupid; I have no choice but to tender my resignation, effective as of this instant. I myself shall undertake responsibility for this tour to Rlaru. If you will elect a new Secretary-Treasurer, I will turn over all my documents and accounts.”

Chapter III
    When Roger Wool read of his aunt’s plans in the morning newspaper, his first emotion was astonishment; his second, dismay; his third, a blind instinctive urgency to act before it was too late.
    Holker answered his visiphone call and placed him in contact with his aunt who sat at her escritoire looking through programs and memoranda. In a falsely jocular voice Roger called out, “Aunt Isabel, have you seen the papers? They’ve published the most ridiculous report!”
    “Oh?” Dame Isabel hardly looked up from her work. “We must have Biancolelli. And Otto von Scheerup.” Then to Roger: “Yes, what were you saying?”
    “The newspapers,” said Roger. “They’ve printed the fantastic rumor that you’re going off on a musical tour of space — something completely foolish. I really think you should sue, on grounds of — of —”
    “Of what, Roger?”
    “Scurrilous defamation — holding up to public ridicule —”
    “Roger, please stop sputtering. The articles are accurate in every respect. I indeed plan to organize an opera company and take it to Rlaru.”
    “But — think! The expense, the difficulties! There must be at least fifty people in an opera company —”
    “I believe that we can do nicely with seventy-two or seventy-three. The company must necessarily be versatile, with all ancillary personnel willing and able to take minor parts.”
    “But a whole spaceship would be required; a crew, supplies —”
    “I have interested my friend Admiral Rathelaw in the project; he will provide a suitable ship at realistic charter rates. This is the least of the difficulties.”
    “But you can’t just go barging off into space like that! Think of the danger!”
    “Nonsense. Mr. Bickel encountered the most cordial reception everywhere. You read far too many sensational novels, Roger; you obviously need an outlet for your energies: perhaps a job.”
    “Seriously,” said Roger, “you have no idea of the problems, the detail, the headaches —”
    “I will naturally hire competent persons to deal with these matters.”
    “But the expense! Such a venture will cost millions!”
    Dame Isabel shrugged. “I have ample means. When I am dead, what good is my money to me?”
    Roger could not argue otherwise. As his aunt’s closest relative, he presumed himself her heir, and the money she planned to squander on this extravagant expedition in a