I remembered the ad--something about an adventure. Foster, Box 19. The cop was still staring at me. "Box nineteen," I said. He looked me over some more, then reached across and opened the door. "Better come on down to the station house with me, Mister," he said. At Police Headquarters, the cop motioned me to a chair, sat behind a desk, and pulled a phone to him. He dialled slowly, then swivelled his back to me to talk. Insects danced around a bare light bulb. There was an odor of stale beer and leather and unwashed bedding. I sat and listened to a radio in the distance wailing a sad song. It was half an hour before I heard a car pull up outside. The man who came through the door was wearing a light suit that was neither new nor freshly pressed, but had that look of perfect fit and taste that only the most expensive tailoring can achieve. He moved in a relaxed way, but with a sense of power held in reserve. At first glance I thought he was in his middle thirties, but when he looked my way I saw the fine lines around the blue eyes. I got to my feet. He came over to me. "I'm Foster," he said, and held out his hand. I shook it. "My name's Legion," I said. The desk sergeant spoke up. "This fellow says he come here to Mayport to see you, Mr. Foster." Foster looked at me steadily. "That's right, Sergeant. This gentleman is considering a proposition I've made." "Well, I didn't know, Mr. Foster," the cop said. "I quite understand, Sergeant," Foster said. "We all feel better, knowing you're on the job." "Well, you know," the cop said. "We may as well be on our way then," Foster said. "If you're ready, Mr. Legion." "Sure, I'm ready," I said. Mr. Foster said goodnight to the cop and we went out. On the pavement in front of the building I stopped. "Thanks, Mr. Foster," I said. "I'll get out of your hair now." * * * * * Foster had his hand on the door of a deceptively modest-looking cabriolet. I could smell the solid leather upholstery from where I stood. "Why not come along to my place, Legion," he said. "We might at least discuss my proposition." I shook my head. "I'm not the man for the job, Mr. Foster," I said. "If you'd like to advance me a couple of bucks, I'll get myself a bite to eat and fade right out of your life." "What makes you so sure you're not interested?" "Your ad said something about adventure. I've had my adventures. Now I'm just looking for a hole to crawl into." "I don't believe you, Legion." Foster smiled at me, a slow, calm smile. "I think your adventures have hardly begun." I thought about it. If I went along, I'd at least get a meal--and maybe even a bed for the night. It was better than curling up under a tree. "Well," I said, "a remark like that demands time for an explanation." I got in the car and sank back in a seat that seemed to fit me like Foster's jacket fit him.