He looked carefully but could find no place where a cigarette's fire might have been crushed. He shrugged. "So long as I didn't burn you, baby." "You didn't." She had the automatic table mix them two cocktails. "There's Brave back from the recroom," she said. "Ears like a fennec," he said admiringly. "I didn't hear anything." "Watch it, brother. I know what a fennec's ears look like." She went to open the door for the big Indian. "How'd you do, Brave?" "Gambled away a dollar and seventy-five cents in a reckless passion. Are you ready to go home, sheikh?" "Yes, I am. I have a theory I want to talk about." "You argue him out of it, Brave," said Win. "He's been working too hard. He thinks supermen are after him." Brave looked at Alan and his fine face grew hard and set. "Supermen ..." he said. "Mutants. Alan, is that it?" "I think that's it." "It fits the picture, all right." "It explains every instance we've observed." "I believe you're on the right track," nodded Brave. "When did you find it?" "While I was telling Win about it. Let's go home and thrash it out, son. She's a disturbing influence." Brave eyed Win up and down with a leer that on anyone else would have been particularly lewd and lascivious. From the faithful Brave it was merely what he meant it to be--a piece of mild buffoonery. "You understate the case, my liege. Yon woman has a plump and supple look; she wriggles too much, such minxes are dangerous. Let's drag tail." "Okay, boys. Go knock your steel-plated skulls together. But remember that I think you're barking up an impossible tree at an invisible possum what ain't thar." She swung the door open for them and stood aside, one arm upraised with the hand on the jamb. Alan kissed her a light farewell, and Brave patted her on the head and said, "Ketch-um sleep, squaw, you look bushed." Then, as Alan turned away, his glance was caught by a mark on Win's arm. It was a round blemish, an angry-looking red welt to the edges of which still clung infinitesimal flakes of gray ash smudged into the skin. He turned away and walked down the corridor with Brave at his side, and he thought ferociously of every possibility he could imagine, but his mind always came back to the same answer. It was a burn, just such a small wound as would result, say, from a cigarette being pressed out against the arm by an oblivious lover. And it should have been shockingly painful. But Win had not felt it at all.... CHAPTER V Alan awoke after an hour of nightmare-ridden sleep. He opened his eyes and got quietly out of bed and put on his tweed suit and a pair of loafers, and walked out of the house without disturbing the slumber of Brave. He went down to the main road and walked along it in the moonlight toward a distant group of buildings. Presently a soldier stepped into his path. "Halt and identify yourself." "I am Dr. Alan Rackham of Fuel Research. My security number is A10C14B44."