"I don't get you, Bob North," she said. "You and your good looks had me fooled. You should have married me for my money instead of pulling something like this." Van Ostrand's chuckle came bubbling up from deep within his great, soft belly. "My dear Nikki, you are wrong on at least two counts. In the first place, if he attempted to go anywhere near a Registry Office for a mating certificate, he would be nailed for bigamy and desertion." North looked suddenly angry, like a schoolboy faced with a tattletale. "That's enough, Van!" Van Ostrand's piggish eyes and his soft voice both became suddenly cold. "Remember your place, Mr. North." North subsided. "In the second place," Van Ostrand went on, his voice soft and oily again, "we are all of the persuasion that there are more important things in life than money." Nikki Varden had been basing her actions on the obvious fact that in order to get her to sign anything and get it through any of her big holding corporations, they would have to keep her definitely and indisputably alive and conscious. But if it wasn't her money that was wanted.... Her face went suddenly white. "What do you want?" she said, in an almost inaudible voice. "For the nonce," said Van Ostrand, "only your continued co-operation. Believe me, dear child, we have no desire whatever to dispatch you untimely from this, our present sphere of corporal existence. On the other hand, we have no compunctions against it, either. Our choice will depend on your choice." "What do you want?" she repeated. Her color was beginning to come back. "Right now, you can just sit comfortably and relax. If you wish, I would be happy to turn on the tri-di. You can watch a program and take your mind from your troubles." "No thanks," she said. * * * * * She had only a small idea of what she was up against. I knew exactly what Van Ostrand was up to, and, for the moment, I was glad Nikki Varden didn't. She was scared enough as it was. Jerome Van Ostrand was a lawyer, and a good one. Presumably, he worked for Marcus Varden Enterprises; I say "presumably," because obviously he didn't work _for_ the company, but against it. Or at least, for himself only. I didn't know how much control he now had over Marcus Varden Enterprises, but I suspected that it was more than he was entitled to have. Nikki had gotten wise to him just a little too late. But Van Ostrand had been prepared, even for that eventuality. Without Bob North inside to shut off the great mansion's electronic defenses, he would never have made it into the house alive, nor would he have been able to manhandle Nikki the way he had. But the way things stood, Jerome Van Ostrand was in complete control. The silence became heavy. Giles Jackson, the mouse-faced little triggerman, shoved his gun into his pocket holster and sat down. He lit a cigarette and stared at the tips of his shoes.