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This place was public; the ceiling was high and the walls were lost in crowds; Thorby recognized the flavor of a transport station. The silent men with them moved into blocking positions and their party proceeded in a direct line regardless of others. Several persons tried to break through and one man managed it. He shoved a microphone at Thorby and said rapidly, "Mr. Rudbek, what is your opinion of the --"
A guard grabbed him. Mr. Weemsby said quickly, "Later, later! Call my office; you'll get the story."
Lenses were trained on them, but from high up and far away. They moved into another passageway, a gate closed behind them. Its glideway deposited them at an elevator which took them to a small enclosed airport. A craft was waiting and beyond it a smaller one, both sleek, smooth, flattened ellipsoids. Weemsby stopped. "You'll be all right?" he asked Mrs. Bradley.
"Oh, surely," answered Professor Bradley.
"The car was satisfactory?"
"Excellent. A nice hop -- and, I'm sure, a good one back."
"Then we'll say good-by. I'll call you -- when he's had a chance to get oriented. You understand?"
"Oh, surely. We'll be waiting." Thorby got a peck from his grandmother, a clap on the shoulder from his grandfather. Then he embarked with Weemsby and Leda in the larger car. Its skipper saluted Mr. Weemsby, then saluted Thorby -- Thorby managed to return it
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