Illustrated by van Dongen
He was looking for a privacy his strange personality needed.And—never quite seemed to achieve it. All his efforts were,somehow—great triumphs of the race, and great failures for him!
The aging man was sweating profusely,and he darted sidelong glancesat the windowless walls of the outeroffice. By turns, he sat stiffly in acorner chair or paced uneasily, hishead swiveling constantly.
His hand was clammy when Meadshook it.
"Hello, Mr. Mead," he said in ahusky, hesitant voice, his eyes neverquite still, never long on Mead's face,but darting hither and yon, his glancerebounding at every turn from thewalls, the floor, the ceiling, the closedouter door.
Christopher Mead, Assistant Undersecretaryfor External Affairs, returnedthe handshake, smiling. "Pleasecome into my office," he said quickly."It's much more spacious."
"Thank you," the aging man saidgratefully and hurried into the nextroom. Mead rapidly opened the windows,and some of the man's nervousnessleft him. He sank down into thevisitor's chair in front of Mead's desk,his eyes drinking in the distances beyondthe windows. "Thank you," herepeated.
Mead sat down behind the desk,leaned back, and waited for the man'sbreathing to slow. Finally he said,"It's good to see you again, Mr.Holliday. What can I do for you?"
Martin Holliday tore his glanceaway from the window long enough toraise his eyes to Mead's face and thendrop them to the hands he had foldedtoo deliberately in his lap.
"I'd—" His voice husked intounintelligibility, and he had to beginagain. "I'd like to take an option on anew planet," he finally said.
Mead nodded. "I don't see whynot." He gestured expressively at thestar chart papered over one wall of hisoffice. "We've certainly got plenty ofthem. But what happened with yourfirst one?"
"It d-d-duh—"
"Mr. Holliday, I certainly won't beoffended if you'd prefer to look out thewindow," Mead said quickly.
"Thank you." After a moment, hebegan again. "It didn't work out," hesaid, his glance flickering back toMead for an instant before he had tolook out the window again.
"I don't know where my figuringwent wrong. It didn't go wrong. It wasjust ... just things. I thought Icould sell enough subdivisions to coverthe payments and still keep most of itfor myself, but it didn't work out."
He looked quickly at Mead with aflash of groundless guilt in his eyes."First I had to sell more than I'dintended, because I had to lower theoriginal price. Somebody'd optionedanother planet in the same system,and I hadn't counted on the competition.Then, even after I'd covered theoption and posted surety on thepayments, there were all kinds ofexpenses. Then I couldn't lease themineral rights—" He looked at Meadagain, as though he had to justifyhimself. "I don't know how that dealfell through. The company just ...just withdrew, all of a sudden."
"Do you think there might havebeen anything peculiar about that?"Mead asked. "I mean—could thecompany have made a deal with thecolonists for a lower price after you'dbeen forced out?"
Holliday shook his head quickly."Oh, no—nothing like that. Thecolonists and I got along fine. Itwasn't as though I hadn't put the bestland up for sale, or tried to makemyself rich. Why, after I'd had to sellsome of the remaining land, and Iknew it wasn't worth staying, anymore, some of them offered to lend meenough money to keep fifty thousandsquare miles for myself." He smiledwarmly, his eyes blank while hefocused on memory.
...