“I’m saying,” said Lockley carefully, “that they do not act like aliens making a first landing on earth.  Apparently their ship is designed to land in deep water.  On a first landing, they should have chosen the sea.  But they knew Boulder Lake was deep enough to cushion their descent.  How did they know it?  They didn’t kill us local animals for study, but they dropped in other local animals to convince us that they wouldn’t mind.  Why try to fill us with horror—­and then let us escape?”

The voice at the other end said sharply, “What do you infer from all this?”

“They’ve been briefed,” said Lockley.  “They know too much about this planet and us humans.  Somebody has told them about human psychology and suggested that they conquer us without destroying our cities or our factories or our usefulness as slaves.  We’ll be much more valuable if captured that way!  I’m saying that they’ve got humans advising and cooperating with them!  I’m suggesting that those humans have made a deal to run earth for the aliens, paying them all the tribute they can demand.  I’m saying that we’re not up against an invasion only by aliens, but by aliens with humans in active cooperation and acting not only as advisers but probably as spies.  I’m—­”

“Mr. Lockley!” said the voice at the other end of the wire.  It was startled and shocked.  It became pompous. “Mr. Lockley, what has been your training?” The voice did not wait for an answer. “Where have you become qualified to offer opinions contradicting all the information and all the decisions of scientists and military men alike?  Where do you get the authority to make such statements?  They are preposterous!  You have wasted my time!  You—­”

Lockley reached over and flipped back the switch he’d seen Jill flip over.  He carefully put down the headset.  He stood up.

The driver and the small man came back.  They picked up the sleeping drunk and moved toward the door.  Something fell out of the drunk’s pocket.  It was a wallet.  They did not notice.  They went out, carrying the drunk.  Jill stooped and recovered it.  She looked at Lockley’s face.

“What—­”

“I’m trying,” said Lockley in a grating voice, “to figure out what to do next.  That didn’t work.”

“I’ll be right back,” said Jill.

She went out to deliver the wallet to the driver, who had apparently been ordered to put the drunk in the trailer body and deliver him somewhere.

Lockley swore explosively when she was gone.  He clenched and unclenched his hands.  He paced the length of the room.

Jill came back, her face white.

“They opened the door of the trailer to pass him in,” she said in a thin, strained voice.  “And there were other men back there.  Several of them!  And machinery!  Not cages for animals but engines—­generators—­electrical things!  I’m frightened!”

“And I,” said Lockley, “am a fool.  I should have known it!  Look here—­”