It was the wrong approach. Magnessen lighted a cigarette, blew smoke in Smith's direction and inquired, "You got a warrant, buddy?" "You bet I have," Smith said, striding forward. "I'll warrant you, wise guy." "Stop it!" Rath ordered. "Lieutenant Smith, thank you for your assistance. I won't need you any longer." Smith left sulkily, taking his platoon with him. Rath said, "I apologize for Smith's over-eagerness. You had better hear the problem." Briefly but fully, he told the story of the customer and the Martian therapeutic machine. When he was finished, Magnessen looked more suspicious than ever. "You say he wants to kill me?" "Definitely." "That's a lie! I don't know what your game is, mister, but you'll never make me believe that. Elwood's my best friend. We been best friends since we was kids. We been in service together. Elwood would cut off his arm for me. And I'd do the same for him." "Yes, yes," Rath said impatiently, "in a sane frame of mind, he would. But your friend Elwood--is that his first name or last?" "First," Magnessen said tauntingly. "Your friend Elwood is psychotic." "You don't know him. That guy loves me like a brother. Look, what's Elwood really done? Defaulted on some payments or something? I can help out." "You thickheaded imbecile!" Rath shouted. "I'm trying to save your life, and the life and sanity of your friend!" "But how do I know?" Magnessen pleaded. "You guys come busting in here--" "You can trust me," Rath said. Magnessen studied Rath's face and nodded sourly. "His name's Elwood Caswell. He lives just down the block at number 341." -- -- -- -- -- The man who came to the door was short, with red hair and red-rimmed eyes. His right hand was thrust into his coat pocket. He seemed very calm. "Are you Elwood Caswell?" Rath asked. "The Elwood Caswell who bought a Regenerator early this afternoon at the Home Therapy Appliances Store?" "Yes," said Caswell. "Won't you come in?" Inside Caswell's small living room, they saw the Regenerator, glistening black and chrome, standing near the couch. It was unplugged. "Have you used it?" Rath asked anxiously. "Yes." Follansby stepped forward. "Mr. Caswell, I don't know how to explain this, but we made a terrible mistake. The Regenerator you took was a Martian model--for giving therapy to Martians." "I know," said Caswell. "You do?" "Of course. It became pretty obvious after a while." "It was a dangerous situation," Rath said. "Especially for a man with your--ah--troubles." He studied Caswell covertly. The man seemed fine, but appearances were frequently deceiving, especially with psychotics. Caswell had been homicidal; there was no reason why he should not still be. And Rath began to wish he had not dismissed Smith and his policemen so summarily. Sometimes an armed squad was a comforting thing to have around.