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operate in differentareas--areas which, naturally, overlap in places, but which are notcongruent by any means."

  "In other words," said Turnbull, "if Duckworth and Rawlings were workingtogether, you wouldn't be told about it."

  "Not unless Scholar Rawlings thought it was necessary to tell me,"Drawford said. He put his cigar carefully in the ashdrop. "Of course, ifI _asked_ him, I'm sure he'd give me the information, but it's hardlyany of _my_ business."

  * * * * *

  Turnbull nodded and switched his tack. "Scholar Rawlings is off-planet,I believe?"

  "That's right. I'm not at liberty to disclose his whereabouts, however,"Drawford said.

  "I realize that. But I'd like to get a message to him, if possible."

  Drawford picked up his cigar again and puffed at it a moment beforesaying anything. Then, "Dr. Turnbull, please don't think I'm beingstuffy, but may I ask the purpose of this inquiry?"

  "A fair question," said Turnbull, smiling. "I really shouldn't have comebarging in here like this without explaining myself first." He had hislie already formulated in his mind. "I'm engaged in writing up a reporton the cultural significance of the artifacts on the planet Lobon--youmay have heard something of it?"

  "I've heard the name," Drawford admitted. "That's in the SagittariusSector somewhere, as I recall."

  "That's right. Well, as you know, the theory for the existence ofCentaurus City assumes that it was, at one time, the focal point of acomplex of trade routes through the galaxy, established by a race thathas passed from the galactic scene."

  Drawford was nodding slowly, waiting to hear what Turnbull had to say.

  "I trust that you'll keep this to yourself, doctor," Turnbull said,extinguishing his cigarette. "But I am of the opinion that the artifactson Lobon bear a distinct resemblance to those of the City." It was abald, out-and-out lie, but he knew Drawford would have no way of knowingthat it was. "I think that Lobon was actually one of the colonies ofthat race--one of their food-growing planets. If so, there is certainlya necessity for correlation between the data uncovered on Lobon andthose which have been found in the City."

  Drawford's face betrayed his excitement. "Why ... why, that's amazing! Ican see why you wanted to get in touch with Scholar Rawlings, certainly!Do you really think there's something in this idea?"

  "I do," said Turnbull firmly. "Will it be possible for me to send amessage to him?"

  "Certainly," Drawford said quickly. "I'll see that he gets it as soon aspossible. What did you wish to say?"

  Turnbull reached into his belt pouch, pulled out a pad and stylus, andbegan to write.

  _I have reason to believe that I have solved the connection between thetwo sources of data concerned in the Centaurus City problem. I wouldalso like to discuss the Duckworth theory with you._

  When he had finished, he signed his name at the bottom and handed it toDrawford.

  Drawford looked at it, frowned, and looked up at Turnbull questioningly.

  "He'll know what I mean," Turnbull said. "Scholar Duckworth had an ideathat Lobon was a data source on the problem even before we did ourdigging there. Frankly, that's why I thought Duckworth might be workingwith Scholar Rawlings."

  Drawford's face cleared. "Very well. I'll put this on the companytransmitters immediately, Dr. Turnbull. And--don't worry, I won't sayanything about this to anyone until Scholar Rawlings or you, yourself,give me the go-ahead."

  "I'd certainly appreciate that," Turnbull said, rising from his seat."I'll leave you to your work now, Dr. Drawford. I can be reached at theMayfair Hotel."

  The two men shook hands, and Turnbull left quickly.

  * * * * *

  Turnbull felt intuitively that he knew where Rawlings was. On theCentaurus planet--the planet of the City. But where was Duckworth?Reason said that he, too, was at the City, but under what circumstances?Was he a prisoner? Had he been killed outright?

  Surely not. That didn't jibe with his leaving Earth the way he had. Ifsomeone had wanted him killed, they'd have done it on Earth; theywouldn't have left a trail to Sirius IV that anyone who was interestedcould have followed.

  On the other hand, how could they account for Duckworth's disappearance,since the trail _was_ so broad? If the police--

  No. He was wrong. The trouble with intuitive thinking is that it tendsto leave out whole sections of what, to a logical thinker, are pieces ofabsolutely necessary data.

  Duckworth actually had no connection with Rawlings--no _logical_connection. The only thing the police would have to work with was thefact that Scholar Duckworth had started on a trip to Mendez and nevermade it any farther than Sirius IV. There, he had vanished. Why? Howcould they prove anything?

  On the other hand, Turnbull was safe. The letters from Duckworth, plushis visit to Drawford, plus his acknowledged destination of Sirius IV,would be enough to connect up both cases if Turnbull vanished. Rawlingsshould know he couldn't afford to do anything to Turnbull.

  Dave Turnbull felt perfectly safe.

  He was in his hotel room at the Mayfair when the announcer chimed, fivehours later. He glanced up from his book to look at the screen. Itshowed a young man in an ordinary business jumper, looking ratherboredly at the screen.

  "What is it?" Turnbull asked.

  "Message for Dr. Turnbull from Rawlings Scientific Corporation," saidthe young man, in a voice that sounded even more bored than his facelooked.

  Turnbull sighed and got up to open the door. When it sectioned, he hadonly a fraction of a second to see what the message was.

  It was a stungun in the hand of the young man.

  It went off, and Turnbull's mind spiraled into blankness before he couldreact.

  * * * * *

  Out of a confused blur of color, a face sprang suddenly into focus, swamaway again, and came back. The lips of the face moved.

  "How do you feel, son?"

  Turnbull looked at the face. It was that of a fairly old man who stillretained the vitality of youth. It was lined, but still firm.

  It took him a moment to recognize the face--then he recalled stereoshe'd seen.

  It was Scholar Jason Rawlings.

  Turnbull tried to lift himself up and found he couldn't.

  The scholar smiled. "Sorry we had to strap you down," he said, "but I'mnot nearly as strong as you are, and I didn't have any desire to bejumped before I got a chance to talk to you."

  Turnbull relaxed. There was no immediate danger here.

  "Know where you are?" Rawlings asked.

  "Centaurus City," Turnbull said calmly. "It's a three-day trip, soobviously you couldn't have made it in the five hours after I sent youthe message. You had me kidnaped and brought here."

  The old man frowned slightly. "I suppose, technically, it _was_kidnaping, but we had to get you out of circulation before you saidanything that might ... ah ... give the whole show away."

  Turnbull smiled slightly. "Aren't you afraid that the police will tracethis to you?"

  "Oh, I'm sure they would eventually," said Rawlings, "but you'll be freeto make any explanations long before that time."

  "I see," Turnbull said flatly. "Mind operation. Is that what you did toScholar Duckworth?"

  The expression on Scholar Rawling's face was so utterly different fromwhat Turnbull had expected that he found himself suddenly correctinghis thinking in a kaleidoscopic readjustment of his mind.

  "What did you think you were on to, Dr. Turnbull?" the old man askedslowly.

  Turnbull started to answer, but, at that moment the door opened.

  The round, pleasant-faced gentleman who came in needed no introductionto Turnbull.

  Scholar Duckworth said: "Hello, Dave. Sorry I wasn't here when you wokeup, but I got--" He stopped. "What's the matter?"

  "I'm just cursing myself for being a fool," Turnbull said sheepishly. "Iwas using your disappearance as a datum in a problem that didn't requireit."

  Scholar Rawlings laugh
ed abruptly. "Then you thought--"

  Duckworth chuckled and raised a hand to interrupt Rawlings. "Just amoment, Jason; let him logic it out to us."

  "First take these straps off," said Turnbull. "I'm stiff enough as itis, after being out cold for three days."

  Rawlings touched a button on the wall, and the restraining strapsvanished. Turnbull sat up creakily, rubbing his arms.

  "Well?" said Duckworth.

  Turnbull looked up at the older man. "It was those first two letters ofyours that started me off."

  "I was