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“Intelligence agent,” said Spano.

“Isn’t it exciting?” she put in. “Aren’t you thrilled?”

Clarey bounced angrily from his chair. “I won’t sit here and be ridiculed!”

“Why ridiculed?” Spano asked. “Don’t you consider yourself an intelligent man?”

“Being an intelligence agent has nothing to do with intelligence!” Clarey said furiously. “The whole thing’s silly, straight out of the tri-dis.”

“What do you have against the tri-dis, Sub-Archivist?” Spano’s voice was very quiet.

“Don’t you like any of them?” the girl said. “I just adore Sentries of the Sky!” Her enthusiasm was tinged, obscurely, with warning.

“Well, I enjoy it, too,” Clarey said, sinking back to the stool. “It’s very entertaining, but I’m sure it isn’t meant to be taken seriously.”

“Oh, but it is, Sub-Archivist Clarey,” Spano said. “Sentries of the Sky happens to be produced by my bureau. We want the public to know all about our operations—or as much as it’s good for them to know—and they find it more palatable in fictionalized form.”