"Well, she's--uh--rather a _peculiar_ woman, Inspector. Keeps telling me how much trouble she had in childbirth, and how she can't ever have another one. It's pathetic. She _believes_ it's her own. Do you understand?" "I think so," Norris replied slowly. "But what do you want me to do? Can't you send the neutroid to a vet?" "She insists it's going to a hospital. Worst part is that she's heard of the disease. Knows it can be cured with the proper treatment--in humans. Of course, no hospital would play along with her fantasy and take a neutroid, especially since she couldn't pay for its treatment." "I still don't see--" "I thought perhaps you could help me fake a substitution. It's a K-48 series, five-year-old, three-year set. Do you have one in the pound that's not claimed?" Norris thought for a moment. "I think I have _one_. You're welcome to it, Doctor, but you can't fake a serial number. She'll know it. And even though they look exactly alike, the new one won't recognize her. It'll be spooky." There was a long pause, followed by a sigh. "I'll try it anyway. Can I come get the animal now?" "I'm on the highway--" "Please, Norris! This is urgent. That woman will lose her mind completely if--" "All right, I'll call my wife and tell her to open the pound for you. Pick out the K-48 and sign for it. And listen--" "Yes?" "Don't let me catch you falsifying a serial number." Doctor Georges laughed faintly. "I won't, Norris. Thanks a million." He hung up quickly. Norris immediately regretted his consent. It bordered on being illegal. But he saw it as a quick way to get rid of an animal that might later have to be killed. He called Anne. Her voice was dull. She seemed depressed, but not angry. When he finished talking, she said, "All right, Terry," and hung up. * * * * * By noon, he had finished checking the shipping lists at the wholesale house in Wylo City. Only thirty-five of July's Bermuda-K-99s had entered his territory, and they were about equally divided among five pet shops, three of which were in Wylo City. After lunch, he called each of the retail dealers, read them the serial numbers, and asked them to check the sales records for names and addresses of individual buyers. By three o'clock, he had the entire list filled out, and the task began to look easier. All that remained was to pick up the thirty-five animals. And _that_, he thought, was like trying to take a year-old baby away from its doting mother. He sighed and drove to the Wylo suburbs to begin his rounds. Anne met him at the door when he came home at six. He stood on the porch for a moment, smiling at her weakly. The smile was not returned. "Doctor Georges came," she told him. "He signed for the--" She stopped to stare at him. "Darling, your face! What happened?"