That might-"
"Yes," said Sermak, viciously, "a huge jack-in-the-box that will jump out at the psychological moment and scare old Wienis into fits.
The Foundation may as well blow itself out of existence and save itself the agony of suspense if it has to depend on any secret weapon."
"Well," said Orsy, changing the subject hurriedly, "the question comes down to this: How much time have we left? Eli, Bort?" "All fight.
It is the question.
But don't look at me; I don't know.
The Anacreonian press never mentions the Foundation at all.
Right now, it's full of the approaching celebrations and nothing else.
Lepold is coming of age next week, you know."
"We have months then."
Walto smiled for the first time that evening.
"That gives us time-"
"That gives us time, my foot," ground out Bort, impatiently.
"The king's a god, I tell you.
Do you suppose he has to carry on a campaign of propaganda to get his people into fighting spirit?
Do you suppose he has to accuse us of aggression and pull out all stops on cheap emotionalism?
When the time comes to strike, Lepold gives the order and the people fight.
Just like that.
That’s the damnedness of the system.
You don’t question a god.
He may give the order tomorrow for all I know; and you can wrap tobacco round that and smoke it."
Everyone tried to talk at once and Sermak was slamming the table for silence, when the front door opened and Levi Norast stamped in.
He bounded up the stairs, overcoat on, trailing snow.
"Look at that!" he cried, tossing a cold, snow-speckled newspaper onto the table.
"The visicasters are full of it, too."
The newspaper was unfolded and five heads bent over it.
Sermak said, in a hushed voice,
"Great Space, he’s going to Anacreon! Going to Anacreon!"
"It is treason," squeaked Tarki, in sudden excitement.
"I’ll be damned if Walto isn’t right.
He’s sold us out and now he’s going there to collect his wage."
Sermak had risen.
"We’ve no choice now.
I’m going to ask the Council tomorrow that Hardin be impeached.
And if that fails-" 5.
The snow had ceased, but it caked the ground deeply now and the sleek ground car advanced through the deserted streets with lumbering effort.
The murky gray light of incipient dawn was cold not only in the poetical sense but also in a very literal way - and even in the then turbulent state of the Foundation's politics, no one, whether Actionist or pro-Hardin found his spirits sufficiently ardent to begin street activity that early.
Yohan Lee did not like that and his grumblings grew audible.
"It's going to look bad, Hardin.
They're going to say you sneaked away."
"Let them say it if they wish.
I've got to get to Anacreon and I want to do it without trouble.
Now that's enough, Lee."
Hardin leaned back into the cushioned seat and shivered slightly.
It wasn't cold inside the well-heated car, but there was something frigid about a snow-covered world, even through glass, that annoyed him.
He said, reflectively,
"Some day when we get around to it we ought to weather-condition Terminus.
It could be done."
"I," replied Lee, "would like to see a few other things done first.
For instance, what about weather-conditioning Sermak?