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of Republicans that wants to throw out the present government by force. They call themselves the Freedom Brigade, and they are outlaws. They stir up riots and kidnap people and blow things up. And when the police get too close, they flee the country—

and some of them come here!”

Pete gulped. “Do you mean to tell me that those people I was with last night are a bunch of terrorists?”

“Perhaps,” said Bob. “Perhaps not. There are a lot of expatriates from Mesa d’Oro who live in the United States. Some of them support the Soldiers of the Republic—the legal, nonviolent party. They contribute money to help Rodriguez in Mexico City, for instance, and to try to elect Republicans in Mesa d’Oro. But some of them do support the outlaw Freedom Brigade.”

“Oh, great!” exclaimed Pete.

“Okay. So much for ancient history,” said Bob. “What’s really interesting is that I saw a blind man outside the bank and he ran when the police were mentioned. Then that guy named Ernie got scared when old Mrs. Denicola mentioned a dream about the blind man and the wallet. And then last night Pete saw a photograph of a man with a scar and dark glasses. He was definitely a hero to the people at that rally or meeting or whatever it was.”

Bob turned back the pages of one of the magazines he had brought from the library. He held up the magazine, and Jupe and Pete stared at a picture of a man with dark glasses and a scar. The man stood at a microphone, his arm upraised. He looked as if he were shouting.

“Pete, was this the photograph you saw?” said Bob.

“It’s … it’s not the same picture,” said Pete, “but it’s the same man. Yes. I’m sure it is!”

“And it’s the man I saw outside the bank,” said Bob. “And yet I couldn’t possibly have seen this man. This is a picture of Luis Pascal Dominguez de Altranto. At one time he was an aide to the Felipe Rodriguez who is in Mexico City right now. He was a terrorist. He masterminded a bombing in Mesa d’Oro that killed fourteen schoolchildren. He claimed that justice was on his side, and that the blood of the innocent children was on the heads of the government which takes away property from his countrymen.”

“A fanatic,” said Jupe. “A real fanatic. But why can’t he be the same person you saw outside the bank?”

“Because Altranto is dead!” said Bob. “He’s been dead for several years.”

No one spoke for a moment or two. Then Pete sighed. “But if Altranto is dead …” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“The beggar looked exactly like a dead man—even to the scar? And the blindness?

Was Altranto blind?” asked Jupe.

“Yes. He was blinded in a fire he set himself in a warehouse in Mesa d’Oro. The handicap didn’t stop him. In fact, it helped make him sort of a hero.”

“So the beggar was disguised to look like Altranto,” said Jupe. “All it took was makeup and a pair of dark glasses. I wonder if Gracie Montoya was the artist behind the disguise? But … but why was there a disguise? What was gained by it? There was no one—”

Jupe stopped in mid-sentence. The telephone on the desk was ringing. He glared at it, annoyed by the interruption. Then he picked it up.

“Hello,” he said. “Oh. Oh, yes, Mr. Bonestell.”

Jupe listened for a minute, then said, “Well, it may not mean a thing, but it could be disturbing. I can come over if you want me to. I’d like to talk to you about …

about a new element that has been introduced into the case.”

Jupe listened for another minute, then said, “Yes. It will take me about half an hour.”

He put the receiver back in its cradle.

“Mr. Bonestell has been questioned again about the robbery,” he said. “He’s very upset. I doubt that the police are really as suspicious as he thinks, but I’ll go see him and try to make him feel better. I’ll also ask him about Grade Montoya. We need to learn how well he knows her.”

Jupe looked eagerly at Bob and Pete. “We also need to keep her under surveillance. I wonder if she’s in close contact with the group