He conferred with his colleagues, then spoke: "Our judgment is as follows:

Glawen Clattuc is awarded his rightful status. The Court regrets that he was subjected to what Superintendent Wook has accurately called a malicious fraud. Aries and Drusilla are stripped of all status, and may not even consider themselves collaterals. They must instantly depart from Clattuc House, this very day. The chambers must be restored as quickly as possible to their exact previous condition, to the total satisfaction of Captain Clattuc.

"As quickly as possible' means just that: work must begin at once and proceed night and day, regardless of cost. If Aries and Drusilla lack the necessary funds, Dame Spanchetta must bear the expense, and make whatever arrangements for repayment she deems suitable with Aries.

"Further, Aries and Drusilla are sentenced to eighty-five days of hard labor at the Cape Journal Labor Camp. The Court hopes that the experience will prove salutary. It is a minimal sentence, and they should consider themselves lucky."

From Drusilla came a wail of pure dismay. Aries stared silently at the floor.

Egon Tamm continued.

"The Court cannot escape the suspicion that Dame Spanchetta knew considerably more of the matter than the evidence indicates. This is only common sense.

Still, we cannot act on suspicion alone, and Dame Spanchetta will not, on this occasion, join Aries and Drusilla at Cape Journal. We have no jurisdiction over the internal government of Clattuc House, but we suggest that Dame Spanchetta is an unsuitable chairman for the Election Board, or for any other committee of importance. We recommen'd that the Clattuc House Elders take executive action along these lines.

"If there is no more business for the Court, we will stand adjourned."

During the afternoon of the following day Glawen visited the jail once again. Entering the cell, he found Floreste sitting at the table, hunched over a book bound in elegant pink leather. Floreste turned Glawen a look of displeasure.

"What do you want now?"

"What I wanted before."

"I'm afraid I can't help you. I have little time to waste and I must make my arrangements." Ploreste returned to his book and appeared to dismiss Glawen from his mind. Glawen crossed the room and seated himself on the chair across the table from Floreste.

A moment passed. Floreste looked up with a frown.

"Are you still here?"

"I just arrived."

"It has been long enough. As you see, I am busy with this book."

"You must make a definite decision, one way or the other."

Floreste gave a sour laugh.

"All the most urgent decisions have definitely been made."

"And your new Orpheum?"

"The Fine Arts Committee will carry on the work. The chairman

is Lady Skellane Laverty; I have known her many years and she is devoted to the cause. She has brought me this book, long one of my favorites. Is it known to you?"

"You have not shown me its tide."

"The Lyrics of Mad Navarth. His songs hang in the mind forever."

"I am familiar with some of them."

"Hmm! I am surprised! You seem a--well, I will not call you a dull dog--let us say, a rather somber fellow."

"I don't think that of myself. The fact is that I am worried about my father."

"Let us talk about Navarth instead. Here is a particularly delicious segment. He glimpses a face for a single instant, but before he can look around it is gone. Navarth is haunted for days, and at last he pours his imaginings into a dozen wonderful quatrains, wild and fateful, surging with rhythm, and each tagged with the refrain:

""So shall she live and so shall she die And so shall the winds of the world blow by.""

"Very nice," said Glawen.

"Do you intend only to recite poetry to me?"

Floreste haughtily raised his eyebrows.

"You are privileged!"

"I want to know what has happened to my father. It seems that you know. I can't understand why you won't tell me."

"Do not try to understand me," said Floreste.

"I myself make no effort in those directions. I use the plural form advisedly."

"Tell me at least if, for a fact, you know what has happened. Which is it: yes or no?"

Floreste rubbed his chin.

"Knowledge is a complex commodity," he said at last.

"It must not be flung here and there tike a farmer scattering manure. Knowledge is power!

That is an aphorism worth committing to memory."

"You still have given me no answer. Do you intend to tell me anything whatever?"

Floreste spoke weightedly:'"I will say this, and you should listen closely. Clearly our universe is subtle and, one might say, palpitant. Nothing moves without jostling something else. Change is immanent to the structure of the cosmos; not even Cadwal of the Charter can evade change. Ah, beautiful Cadwal, with its fine lands and noble provinces!

The meadows are verdant in die sunlight; they invite the general habitancy wherein all creatures may take their special pleasures.

Animals may' browse and birds may fly, while men sing their songs and dance their dances, in peace and harmony. So it should be, with each consuming his share and each performing the work he finds needful. This is the vision of many noble folk, both here and elsewhere."

"So it may be. But what of my father?"

Floreste scowled and made an impatient gesture.

"Are you so dense? Must everything be shouted into your ear? Do you subscribe to those ideals I have just cited?"

"No."