“If they asked about the long interval between your entering Spacetown, Commissioner, and your arrival at Dr. Sarton’s dome, you could say—let’s see—that you saw someone lurking through the streets and heading for open country. You pursued for a while. That would also encourage them along a false path. As for R. Sammy, no one would notice him. A robot among the truck farms outside the City is just another robot.
“How close am I, Commissioner?”
Enderby writhed, “I didn’t—”
“No,” said Baley, “you didn’t kill Daneel. He’s here, and in all the time he’s been in the City, you haven’t been able to look him in the face or address him by name. Look at him now, Commissioner.”
Enderby couldn’t. He covered his face with shaking hands.
Baley’s shaking hands almost dropped his transmitter. He had found it.
The image was now centered upon the main door to Dr. Sarton’s dome. The door was open; it had been slid into its wall receptacle along its shining metal runner grooves. Down within them. There! There!
The sparkle was unmistakable.
“I’ll tell you what happened,” said Baley. “You were at the dome when you dropped your glasses. You must have been nervous and I’ve seen you when you’re nervous. You take them off; you wipe them. You did that then. But your hands were shaking and you dropped them; maybe you stepped on them. Anyway, they were broken, and just then, the door opened and a figure that looked like Daneel faced you.
“You blasted him, scrabbled up the remains of your glasses, and ran. They found the body, not you, and when they came to find you, you discovered that it was not Daneel, but the early-rising Dr. Sarton, that you had killed. Dr. Sarton had designed Daneel in his own image, to his great misfortune, and without your glasses in that moment of tension, you could not tell them apart.
“And if you want the tangible proof, it’s there!” The image of Sarton’s dome quivered and Baley put the transmitter carefully upon the desk, his hand tightly upon it.
Commissioner Enderby’s face was distorted with terror and Baley’s with tension. R. Daneel seemed indifferent.
Baley’s finger was pointing. “That glitter in the grooves of the door. What was it, Daneel?”
“Two small slivers of glass,” said the robot, coolly. “It meant nothing to us.”
“It will now. They’re portions of concave lenses. Measure their optical properties and compare them with those of the glasses Enderby is wearing now. Don’t smash them, Commissioner!”
He lunged at the Commissioner and wrenched the spectacles from the other’s hand. He held them out to R. Daneel, panting, “That’s proof enough, I think, that he was at the dome earlier than he was thought to be.”
R. Daneel said, “I am quite convinced. I can see now that I was thrown completely off the scent by the Commissioner’s cerebroanalysis. I congratulate you, partner Elijah.”
Baley’s watch said 24:00. A new day was beginning.
Slowly, the Commissioner’s head went down on his arms. His words were muffled wails. “It was a mistake. A mistake. I never meant to kill him?” Without warning, he slipped from the chair and lay crumpled on the floor.
R. Daneel sprang to him, saying, “You have hurt him, Elijah. That is too bad.”
“He isn’t dead, is he?”
“No. But unconscious.”
“He’ll come to. It was too much for him, I suppose. I had to do it, Daneel, I had to. I had no evidence that would stand up in court, only inferences. I had to badger him and badger him and let it out little by little, hoping he would break down. He did, Daneel. You heard him confess, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Now, then, I promised this would be to the benefit of Spacetown’s project, so—Wait, he’s coming to.”
The Commissioner groaned. His eyes fluttered and opened. He stared speechlessly at the two.
Baley said, “Commissioner, do you hear me?”
The Commissioner nodded listlessly.
“All right, then. Now, the Spacers have more on their minds than your prosecution. If you co-operate with them—”
“What? What?” There was a dawning flicker of hope in the Commissioner’s eyes.
“You must be a big wheel in New York’s Medievalist organization, maybe even in the planetary setup. Maneuver them in the direction of the colonization of space. You can see the propaganda line, can’t you? We can go back to the soil all right—but on other planets.”
“I don’t understand,” mumbled the Commissioner.
“It’s what the Spacers are after. And God help me, it’s what I’m after now, too, since a small conversation I had with Dr. Fastolfe. It’s what they want more than anything. They risk death continually by coming to Earth and staying here for that purpose. If Dr. Sarton’s murder will make it possible for you to swing Medievalism into line for the resumption of Galactic colonization, they’ll probably consider it a worthwhile sacrifice. Do you understand now?”
R. Daneel said, “Elijah is quite correct. Help us, Commissioner, and we will forget the past. I am speaking for Dr. Fastolfe and our people generally in this. Of course, if you should agree to help and later betray us, we would always have the fact of your guilt to hold over your head. I hope you understand that, too. It pains me to have to mention that.”
“I won’t be prosecuted?” asked the Commissioner.
“Not if you help us.”
Tears filled his eyes. “I’ll do it. It was an accident. Explain that. An accident. I did what I thought right.”
Baley said, “If you help us, you will be doing right. The colonization of space is the only possible salvation of Earth. You’ll realize that if you think about it without prejudice. If you find you cannot, have a short talk with Dr. Fastolfe. And now, you can begin helping by quashing the R. Sammy business. Call it an accident or something. End it!”
Baley got to his feet. “And remember, I’m not the only one who knows the truth, Commissioner. Getting rid of me will ruin you. All Spacetown knows. You see that, don’t you?”
R. Daneel said, “It is unnecessary to say more, Elijah. He is sincere and he will help. So much is obvious from his cerebroanalysis.”
“All right. Then I’ll go home. I want to see Jessie and Bentley and take up a natural existence again. And I want to sleep.—Daneel, will you stay on Earth after the Spacers go?”
R. Daneel said, “I have not been informed. Why do you ask?”
Baley bit his lip, then said, “I didn’t think I would ever say anything like this to anyone like you, Daneel, but I trust you. I even—admire you. I’m too old ever to leave Earth myself, but when schools for emigrants are finally established, there’s Bentley. If someday, perhaps, Bentley and you, together…”
“Perhaps.” R. Daneel’s face was emotionless.
The robot turned to Julius Enderby, who was watching them with a flaccid face into which a certain vitality was only now beginning to return.
The robot said, “I have been trying, friend Julius, to understand some remarks Elijah made to me earlier. Perhaps I am beginning to, for it suddenly seems to me that the destruction of what should not be, that is, the destruction of what you people call evil, is less just and desirable than the conversion of this evil into what you call good.”
He hesitated, then, almost as though he were surprised at his own words, he said, “Go, and sin no more!”
Baley, suddenly smiling, took R. Daneel’s elbow, and they walked out the door, arm in arm.