Gulliman would prosper by this.

Othman shrugged his shoulders. “Well, he’s happy.”

“When do we break the bubble?” said Leemy. “Putting Manners under observation just raised the probabilities and house arrest gave it another boost.”

“Don’t I know it?” said Othman peevishly. “What I don’t know is why.”

“Accomplices, maybe, like you said. With Manners in trouble, the rest have to strike at once or be lost.”

“Just the other way around. With our hand on one, the rest would scatter for safety and disappear. Besides, why aren’t the accomplices named by Multivac?”

“Well, then, do we tell Gulliman?”

“No, not yet. The probability is still only 17.3 per cent. Let’s get a bit more drastic first.”

Elizabeth Manners said to her younger son, “You go to your room, Ben.”

“But what’s it all about, Mom?” asked Ben, voice breaking at this strange ending to what had been a glorious day.

“Please!”

He left reluctantly, passing through the door to the stairway, walking up it noisily and down again quietly.

And Mike Manners, the older son, the new-minted adult and the hope of the family, said in a voice and tone that mirrored his brother’s, “What’s it all about?”

Joe Manners said, “As heaven is my witness, Son, I don’t know. I haven’t done anything.”

“Well, sure you haven’t done anything.” Mike looked at his small-boned, mild-mannered father in wonder. “They must be here because you’re thinking of doing something.”

“I’m not.”

Mrs. Manners broke in angrily, “How can he be thinking of doing something worth all—all this.” She cast her arm about, in a gesture -toward the enclosing shell of government men about the house. “When I was a little girl, I remember the father of a friend of mine was working in a bank, and they once called him up and said to leave the money alone and he did. It was fifty thousand dollars. He hadn’t really taken it. He was just thinking about taking it. They didn’t keep those things as quiet in those days as they do now; the story got out. That’s how I know about it.