“Yes,” Alfred Smith babbled. “Yes, yes, yes!” Things were beginning to click! He was on the trail of the aliens’ organization!

He went out immediately and hurriedly selected a Due de Richelieu outfit. Since some small alterations were necessary, he had time to get dinner before the costume would be delivered to his hotel. He ate carefully and nutritiously; this was going to be a big night. His reading matter throughout the meal was a booklet he’d picked up in the outfitting place, a booklet giving the descriptions and background of all the costumes available for this period—sixteenth-to eighteenth-century France. Any fact might be the vital clue…

Back in his room, he tore off his clothes and pulled on the rented apparel. He was a little disappointed at the result. He did not quite look like a Gray Eminence. More like a young Protestant in Cardinal’s clothing. But then he found the scrap of gray beard in the box that belonged with the costume and fitted it on. It made all the difference.

Talk about your disguises! Here his body was supposed to be a disguise, a disguise which was the uniform of the Aliens’ Special Agents Division, of their terrestrial spy service. And now he was disguising that supposed disguise with a real one—just as by being a supposed spy he was laying a trap for all the real secret operatives.

Alfred Smith—one lone man against the aliens! “So that,” he whispered reverently, “government of humans, by humans, and for humans shall not perish from the Earth.”

The telephone. This time it was Jones.

“Just got word from Robinson, Smith. That special mission of mine. It looks like tonight’s the night.”

“Tonight, eh?” Alfred Smith felt the lace tighten around his throat.