Lord Dorwin took snuff. He also had long hair, curled intricately and, quite obviously, artificially, to which were added a pair of fluffy, blond sideburns, which he fondled affectionately. Then, too, he spoke in overprecise statements and left out all the r’s.

At the moment, Hardin had no time to think of more of the reasons for the instant detestation in which he had held the noble chancellor. Oh, yes, the elegant gestures of one hand with which he accompanied his remarks and the studied condescension with which he accompanied even a simple affirmative.

But, at any rate, the problem now was to locate him. He had disappeared with Pirenne half an hour before—passed clean out of sight, blast him.

Hardin was quite sure that his own absence during the preliminary discussions would quite suit Pirenne.

But Pirenne had been seen in this wing and on this floor. It was simply a matter of trying every door. Halfway down, he said, “Ah!” and stepped into the darkened room. The profile of Lord Dorwin’s intricate hairdo was unmistakable against the lighted screen.

Lord Dorwin looked up and said: “Ah, Hahdin. You ah looking foah us, no doubt?” He held out his snuffbox—overadorned and poor workmanship at that, noted Hardin—and was politely refused, whereat he helped himself to a pinch and smiled graciously.

Pirenne scowled and Hardin met that with an expression of blank indifference.

The only sound to break the short silence that followed was the clicking of the lid of Lord Dorwin’s snuffbox. And then he put it away and said:

“A gweat achievement, this Encyclopedia of yoahs, Hahdin. A feat, indeed, to rank with the most majestic accomplishments of all time.”

“Most of us think so, milord. It’s an accomplishment not quite accomplished as yet, however.”

“Fwom the little I have seen of the efficiency of yoah Foundation, I have no feahs on that scoah.” And he nodded to Pirenne, who responded with a delighted bow.

Quite a love feast, thought Hardin. “I wasn’t complaining about the lack of efficiency, milord, as much as of the definite excess of efficiency on the part of the Anacreonians—though in another and more destructive direction.”

“Ah, yes, Anacweon.” A negligent wave of the hand. “I have just come from theah. Most bahbawous planet. It is thowoughly inconceivable that human beings could live heah in the Pewiphewy. The lack of the most elementawy wequiahments of a cultuahed gentleman; the absence of the most fundamental necessities foah comfoht and convenience—the uttah desuetude into which they—”

Hardin interrupted dryly: “The Anacreonians, unfortunately, have all the elementary requirements for warfare and all the fundamental necessities for destruction.”

“Quite, quite.” Lord Dorwin seemed annoyed, perhaps at being stopped midway in his sentence. “But we ahn’t to discuss business now, y’know. Weally, I’m othahwise concuhned. Doctah Piwenne, ahn’t you going to show me the second volume? Do, please.”

The lights clicked out and for the next half hour Hardin might as well have been on Anacreon for all