"Thanks," he said, in a thin voice. He took a lighter from an inner pocket, flipped it, held it to the cigarette. I stood up. There was a blur of motion from my visitor, and the lighter was gone and a short-nosed revolver was in its place. "You've got the wrong scoop, mister," I said. "I don't bite." "I'd rather you wouldn't move suddenly, Mr. Legion." "Which side are you working for?" I asked. "And can I put my shoes on?" He rested the pistol on his knee. "Get completely dressed, Mr. Legion." "Sorry," I said. "No can do. No clothes." He frowned slightly. "My jacket will be a little small for you," he said. "But I think you can manage." "How come you didn't figure I was dead?" I asked. "We checked the house," he said. "No body." "Why, you incompetent asses. You were supposed to think I drowned." "That possibility was considered. But we made the routine checks anyway." "Nice of you to let me sleep it out. How long have you been here?" "Only a few minutes," he said. He glanced at his watch. "We'll have to be going in another fifteen." "What do you want with me?" I said. "You blew up everything you were interested in." "The Department wants to ask you a few questions." I looked at the pistol. "I wonder if you'd really shoot me," I mused. "I'll try to make the position clear," he said. "Just to avoid any unfortunate misunderstanding. My instructions are to bring you in, alive--if possible. If it appears that you may evade arrest ... or fall into the wrong hands, I'll be forced to use the gun." * * * * * I pulled my shoes on, thinking it over. My best chance to make a break was now, while there was only one watch dog. But I had a feeling he was telling the truth about shooting me. I had already seen the boys in action at the house. He got up. "Let's step into the living room, Mr. Legion," he said. I moved past him through the door. In the living room the clock on the mantle said eleven. I'd been asleep for five or six hours. Margareta ought to be getting back any minute.... "Put this on," he said. I took the light jacket and wedged myself into it. The telephone rang. I looked at my watchdog. He shook his head. We stood and listened to it ring. After a while it stopped. "We'd better be going now," he said. "Walk ahead of me, please. We'll take the elevator to the basement and leave by the service entrance--" He stopped talking, eyes on the door. There was the rattle of a key. The gun came up. "Hold it," I snapped. "It's the girl who owns the apartment." I moved to face him, my back to the door. "That was foolish of you, Legion," he said. "Don't move again." I watched the door in the big mirror on the opposite wall. The knob turned, the door swung in ... and a thin brown man in white shirt and white pants slipped into the room. As he pushed the door back he transferred a small automatic to his left hand. My keeper threw a lever on the revolver that was aimed at my belt buckle.