THE VISI-SONOR

Ebling Mis’s house in a not-so-pretentious neighborhood of Terminus City was well known to the intelligentsia, literati, and just-plain-well-read of the Foundation. Its notable characteristics depended, subjectively, upon the source material that was read. To a thoughtful biographer, it was the “symbolization of a retreat from a nonacademic reality,” a society columnist gushed silkily at its “frightfully masculine atmosphere of careless disorder,” a University Ph.D. called it brusquely, “bookish, but unorganized,” a nonuniversity friend said, “good for a drink anytime and you can put your feet on the sofa,” and a breezy newsweekly broadcast, that went in for color, spoke of the “rocky, down-to-earth, no-nonsense living quarters of blaspheming, Leftish, balding Ebling Mis.”

To Bayta, who thought for no audience but herself at the moment, and who had the advantage of firsthand information, it was merely sloppy.

Except for the first few days, her imprisonment had been a light burden. Far lighter, it seemed, than this half-hour wait in the psychologist’s home—under secret observation, perhaps? She had been with Toran then, at least—

Perhaps she might have grown wearier of the strain, had not Magnifico’s long nose drooped in a gesture that plainly showed his own far greater tension.

Magnifico’s pipe-stem legs were folded up under a pointed, sagging chin, as if he were trying to huddle himself into disappearance, and Bayta’s hand went out in a gentle and automatic gesture of reassurance. Magnifico winced, then smiled.

“Surely, my lady, it would seem that even yet my body denies the knowledge of my mind and expects of others’ hands a blow.”

“There’s no need for worry, Magnifico. I’m with you, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The clown’s eyes sidled towards her, then drew away quickly. “But they kept me away from you earlier—and from your kind husband—and, on my word, you may laugh, but I was lonely for missing friendship.”

“I wouldn’t laugh at that. I was, too.”

The clown brightened, and he hugged his knees closer. He said, “You have not met this man who will see us?” It was a cautious question.

“No. But he is a famous man. I have seen him in the newscasts and heard quite a good deal of him. I think he’s a good man, Magnifico, who means us no harm.”

“Yes?” The clown stirred uneasily. “That may be, my lady, but he has questioned me before, and his manner is of an abruptness and loudness that bequivers me. He is full of strange words, so that the answers to his questions could not worm out of my throat. Almost, I might believe the romancer who once played on my ignorance with a tale that, at such moments, the heart lodged in the windpipe and prevented speech.”

“But it’s different now. We’re two to his one, and he won’t be able to frighten the both of us, will he?”

“No, my lady.”

A door slammed somewhere, and the roaring of a voice entered the house. Just outside the room,