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“But I’d hardly say we were in charge of the research. That’s handled entirely by the Group leaders at the City itself.”

Turnbull lit a cigarette. “What happened to Scholar Duckworth?” he said suddenly.

Drawford blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Again Turnbull’s intuitive reasoning leaped far ahead of logic; he knew that Drawford was honestly innocent of any knowledge of the whereabouts of Scholar James Duckworth.

“I was under the impression,” Turnbull said easily, “that Scholar Duckworth was engaged in some sort of work with Scholar Rawlings.”

Drawford smiled and spread his hands. “Well, now, that may be. Dr. Turnbull. If so, then they’re engaged in something that’s above my level.”

“Oh?”

Drawford pursed his lips for a moment, frowning. Then he said: “I must admit that I’m not a good intuitive thinker, Dr. Turnbull. I have not the capacity for it, I suppose. That’s why I’m an engineer instead of a basic research man; that’s why I’ll never get a Scholar’s degree.” Again he paused before continuing. “For that reason, Scholar Rawlings leaves the logic to me and doesn’t burden me with his own business. Nominally, he is the head of the Corporation; actually, we operate in different areas–areas which, naturally, overlap in places, but which are not congruent by any means.”

“In other words,” said Turnbull, “if Duckworth and Rawlings were working together, you wouldn’t be told about it.”

“Not unless Scholar Rawlings thought it was necessary to tell me,” Drawford said. He put his cigar carefully in the ashdrop. “Of course, if I asked him, I’m sure he’d give me the information, but it’s hardly any of my business.”

* * * * *

Turnbull nodded and switched his tack. “Scholar Rawlings is off-planet, I believe?”

“That’s right. I’m not at liberty to disclose his whereabouts, however,” Drawford said.

“I realize that. But I’d like to get a message to him, if possible.”

Drawford picked up his cigar again and puffed at it a moment before saying anything. Then, “Dr. Turnbull, please don’t think I’m being stuffy, but may I ask the purpose of this inquiry?”

“A fair question,” said Turnbull, smiling. “I really shouldn’t have come barging in here like this without explaining myself first.” He had his lie already formulated in his mind. “I’m engaged in writing up a report on the cultural significance of the artifacts on the planet Lobon–you may have heard something of it?”

“I’ve heard the name,” Drawford admitted. “That’s in the Sagittarius Sector somewhere, as I recall.”

“That’s right. Well, as you know, the theory for the existence of Centaurus City assumes that it was, at one time, the focal point of a complex of trade routes through the galaxy, established by a race that has passed from the galactic scene.”

Drawford was nodding slowly, waiting to hear what Turnbull had to say.

“I trust that you’ll keep this to yourself, doctor,” Turnbull said, extinguishing his cigarette. “But I am of the opinion that the artifacts on Lobon bear a distinct resemblance to those of the City.” It was a bald, out-and-out lie, but he knew Drawford would have no way of knowing that it was. “I think that Lobon was actually one of the colonies of that race–one of their food-growing planets. If so, there is certainly a necessity for correlation between the data uncovered on Lobon and those which have been found in the City.”

Drawford’s face betrayed his excitement. “Why … why, that’s amazing! I can see why you wanted to get in touch with Scholar Rawlings, certainly! Do you really think there’s something in this idea?”

“I do,” said Turnbull firmly. “Will it be possible for me to send a message to him?”

“Certainly,” Drawford said quickly. “I’ll see that he gets it as soon as possible. What did you wish to say?”

Turnbull reached into his belt pouch, pulled out a pad and stylus, and began to write.