Stormgren shook his head in amused disagreement.

“Your explanation, as usual, is much too ingenious to be true. Though we can only infer its existence, there must be a great civilization behind the Supervisor—and one that's known about man for a very long time. Karellen himself must have been studying us for centuries. Look at his command of English, for example. He taught me how to speak it idiomatically!”

“Have you ever discovered anything he doesn't know?”

“Oh yes, quite often—but only on trivial points. I think he has an absolutely perfect memory, but there are some things he hasn't bothered to learn. For instance, English is the only language he understands completely, though in the last two years he's picked up a good deal of Finnish just to tease me. And one doesn't learn Finnish in a hurry! He can quote great slabs of the Kalevala, whereas I'm ashamed to say I know only a few lines. He also knows the biographies of all living statesmen, and sometimes I can identify the references he's used. His knowledge of history and science seems complete—you know how much we've already learned from him. Yet, taken one at a time, I don't think his mental gifts are quite outside the range of human achievement. But no man could possibly do all the things he does.”

“That's more or less what I've decided already,” agreed van Ryberg. “We can argue round Karellen forever, but in the end we always come back to the same question: Why the devil won't he show himself? Until he does, I'll go on theorizing and the Freedom League will go on fulminating.” He cocked a rebellious eye at the ceiling.

“One dark night, Mr. Supervisor, I hope some reporter takes a rocket up to your ship and climbs in through the back-door with a camera. What a scoop that would be!”

If Karellen was listening, be gave no sign. But, of course, he never did. In the first year of their coming, the advent of the Overlords had made less difference to the pattern of human life than might have been expected.