cure in a corner of Dale's brain and sat back to await results. But in the next hundredth of a second there was no response. Dale still was about to turn the sun on Paris.

So the Bryd, now thoroughly disgusted, implanted the knowledge of Ann's love in another corner of Dale's mind and then to its astonishment had to jump fast to get out of the way.

Did that ever get results! Dale held his finger. He got up and rubbed his forehead a moment. Then he went to the radio-phone. "Get me the U.N. police headquarters in London," he said.

He stood there beating his brains to figure out what had gotten into him, so the Bryd just felt around and erased a few memories, and everything was all right. Then the Bryd climbed into its favorite cozy spot in Dale's mind. The spot was still warm and snuggly. It began to settle down—but then it remembered something.

It got up. It went back to Earth and hunted up the minds of the men who were flying atom-bombs over France. The Bryd knew by now, of course, that France herself had never had any atom-bombs.

The Bryd went into the minds of the foreign fliers and sent them back to drop the atom-bombs on their own cities. After all, they had those bombs and they apparently were the kind who wouldn't be satisfied until they could drop them. The Bryd dusted off its hands and headed wearily for sun-station No. 18. It hoped for many restful years ahead with Dale and Ann.

If it didn't get them, the Bryd thought disgustedly, it had better try to hitch a ride back to Pluto. At least it had had rest and quiet there.

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