Foster smiled wryly. "About three quarters of them were from women who thought I wanted a playmate. Several more were from men with the same idea. The few others were hopelessly unsuitable." "That's surprising," I said. "I'd have thought you'd have brought half the nuts in the country out of the woodwork by now." Foster looked at me, not smiling. I realized suddenly that behind the urbane facade there was a hint of tension, a trace of worry in the level blue eyes. * * * * * "I'd like very much to interest you in what I have to say, Legion. I think you lack only one thing--confidence in yourself." I gave a sort of laugh. "What are the qualifications you think I have? I'm a jack of no trades--" "Legion, you're a man of considerable intelligence and more than a little culture; you've travelled widely and know how to handle yourself in difficult situations--or you wouldn't have survived. I'm sure your training includes techniques of entry and fact-gathering not known to the average man; and perhaps most important, although you're an honest man, you're capable of breaking the law--when necessary." "So that's it," I said. "No, I'm not forming a mob, Legion. As I said in the ad--this is an unusual adventure. It may--probably will--involve infringing various statutes and regulations of one sort or another. After you know the full story I'll leave you to judge whether it's justifiable." If Foster was trying to arouse my curiosity, he was succeeding. He was dead serious about whatever it was he was planning. It sounded like something no one with good sense would want to get involved in--but on the other hand, Foster didn't look like the sort of man to do anything foolish.... "Why don't you tell me what this is all about?" I said. "Why would a man with all this--" I waved a hand at the luxurious room--"want to pick a hobo like me out of the gutter and talk him into taking a job?" "Your ego has taken a severe beating, Legion--that's obvious. I think you're afraid that I'll expect too much of you--or that I'll be shocked by some disclosure you may make. Perhaps if you'd forget yourself and your problems for the moment, we could reach an understanding--" "Yeah," I said. "Just forget my problems--" "Chiefly money problems, of course. Most of the problems of this society involve the abstraction of values that money represents." "Okay," I said. "I've got my problems, you've got yours. Let's leave it at that." "You feel that, because I have material comfort, my problems must of necessity be trivial ones. Tell me, Mr. Legion: have you ever known a man who suffered from amnesia?" * * * * * Foster crossed the room to a small writing desk, took something from a drawer, looked at me. "I'd like you to examine this," he said.