Jim, feeling self-conscious, mounted the platform and sat Willis on the speaker's table. Willis looked around and promptly battened down all hatches. "Jim," his father whispered urgently, "snap him out of it."

"I'll try," agreed Jim. "Come on, boy. Nobody's going to hurt Willis. Come out; Jim wants to talk to you."

His father said to the audience, "These creatures are timid. Please be very quiet," then, "How about it, Jim?"

"I'm trying."

"Confound it, we should have made a recording."

Willis chose this minute to come out of hiding. "Look, Willis boy," Jim went on, "Jim wants you to talk. Everybody is waiting for Willis to talk. Come on, now. 'Good afternoon. Good afternoon. Mark.'"

Willis picked it up. " 'Sit down, my boy. Always happy to see you.'" He went on, reeling off the words of Howe and Beecher.

Somebody recognized Beecher's voice; there was a muffled exclamation as he passed his knowledge on. Mr. Marlowe made frantic shushing signs.

Presently, as Beecher was expounding by proxy his theory of "legitimate graft," Kruger got up. Kelly placed hands on his shoulders and pushed him down. Kruger started to protest;

Kelly placed a hand over Kruger's mouth. He then smiled; it was something he had been wanting to do ever since Kruger had first been assigned to the colony.

The audience got restless between the two significant conversations; Mr. Marlowe promised by pantomime that the best was yet to come. He need not have worried; Willis, once wound up, was as hard to stop as an after-dinner speaker. There was amazed silence when he had finished, then a murmur mat became a growl. It changed to uproar as everyone tried to talk at once. Marlowe pounded for order and Willis closed up. Presently Andrews, a young technician, got the floor.

"Mr. Chairman... we know how important this is, if it's true-but how reliable is that beastie?"

"Eh? I don't think it's possible for one of them to repeat other than verbatim. Is there a psychological expert present who might give us an opinion? How about you, Dr. Ibanez?"

"I agree, Mr. Marlowe. A roundhead can originate speech on its mental level, but a speech such as we just heard is something it has listened to. It repeats parrot-fashion exactly what it has heard. I doubt if such a 'recording,' if I may call it that, may be modified after it has been impressed on the animal's nervous system; it's an involuntary reflex-complicated and beautiful, but reflex nevertheless."

"Does that satisfy you, Andy?"

"Uh, no. Everybody knows that a bouncer is just a superparrot and not smart enough to lie. But is that the Resident General's voice? It sounds like it, but I've only heard him over the radio."

Someone called out, "It's Beecher. I had to listen to his drivel often enough, when I was stationed at Syrtis."

Andrews shook his head. "Sure, it sounds like him, but we've got to know. It could be a clever actor."

Kruger had been quiet, in a condition resembling shock. The revelation had come as a surprise to him, too, as Beecher had not dared trust anyone on the spot. But Kruger's conscience was not easy; there were tell-tale signs in his own despatch file that Willis's report was correct; migration required a number of routine orders from the planet office. He was uncomfortably aware that none of the proper groundwork had been laid if, as was the official claim, migration were to take place in less than two weeks.

But Andrews's comment gave him a straw to clutch. Standing, he said, "I'm glad somebody has sense enough not to be swindled. How long did it take you to teach him that, Marlowe?"

Kelly said, "Shall I gag him, chief?"

"No. This has to be met. I suppose it's a matter of whether or not you believe my boy and his chum. Do any of you wish to question them?" A long, lean, lanky individual unfolded himself from a rear seat. "I can settle it."

"Eh? Very well, Mr. Toland, you have the floor."

"Got to get some apparatus. Take a few minutes." Toland was an electronic engineer and sound technician.

"OhI think I see what you mean. You'll need a comparison model of Beecher's voice, won't you?"

"Sure. But I've got all I need. Every time Beecher made a speech, Kruger wanted it recorded."

Volunteers were found to help Toland, then Marlowe suggested that it was time for a stretch. At once Mrs. Pottle stood up. "Mr. Marlowe!"

"Yes, Mrs. Pottle. Quiet, everybody."

"I for one will not remain here one minute longer and listen to this nonsense! The idea of making such charges against dear Mr. Beecher! To say nothing of what you let that awful man Kelly do to Mr. Kruger! And as for that beast-" She pointed to Willis. "It is utterly unreliable, as I know full well." She paused to snort, then said, "Come, dear," to Mr. Pottle, and started to flounce out.

"Stop her, Kelly!" Mr. Marlowe went on quietly, "I had hoped that no one would try to leave until we reached a decision. If the colony decides to act it may be to our advantage to keep it as a surprise. Will the meeting authorize me to take steps to see that no scooter leaves the colony until you have made up your minds about the issue?"

There was just one "no," from Mrs. Pottle. "Conscript some help, Mr. Kelly," Marlowe ordered, "and carry out the will of the meeting."

"Right, chief!"

"You can go now, Mrs. Pottle. Not you, Mr. Kruger." Mr. Pottle hesitated in bewilderment, then trotted after his wife.

Toland returned and set up his apparatus on the platform. With Jim's help, Willis was persuaded to perform again, this time into a recorder. Shortly Toland held up his hand. "That's enough. Let me find some matching words." He selected "colony," "company," "afternoon," and "Martian" because they were easy to find in each recording, Willis's and an identified radio speech of the Resident General. Each he checked with care, throwing complex standing waves on the bright screen of an oscilloscope, waves that earmarked the peculiar timbre of an individual's voice as certainly as a fingerprint would identify his body.

At last he stood up. "It's Beecher's voice," he said flatly.

Jim's father again had to pound for order. When he had got it, he said, "Very well-what is your pleasure?"

Someone shouted, "Let's lynch Beecher." The chairman suggested that they stick to practical objectives.

Someone else called out, "What's Kruger got to say about it?"

Marlowe turned to Kruger. "Mr. Resident Agent, you speak for the Company. What about it?"

Kruger wet his lips. "If one assumes that that beast is actually reporting statements of the Agent General-"

"Quit stalling!"

"Toland proved it!"

Kruger's eyes darted around; he was faced with a decision impossible for a man of his temperament. "Well, it's really no business of mine," he said angrily. "I'm about to be transferred."

MacRae got up. "Mr. Kruger, you are custodian of our welfare. You mean to say you won't stand up for our rights?"

"Well, now, Doctor, I work for the Company. If this is its policy-and I'm not admitting it-you can't expect me to go against it."

"I work for the Company, too," the Doctor growled, "but I didn't sell myself to it, body and soul." His eyes swept the crowd. "How about it, folks? Shall we throw him out on his ear?"

Marlowe had to bang for order. "Sit down. Doctor. We haven't time to waste on trivia."

"Mr. Chairman-"

"Yes, Mrs. Palmer?"

"What do you think we ought to do?"

"I would rather that suggestions came from the floor."

"Oh, nonsense-you've known about it longer than we have; you must have an opinion. Speak up."

Marlowe saw that her wish was popular. "Very well, I speak for myself and Mr. Sutton. By contract we are entitled to migrate and the Company is obligated to let us. I say go ahead and do so, at once."

"I so move!"