After Tansy was gone, Norman threw a fresh log on the fire, and sank back in the easy-chair, watching the restless, rhythmic play of the flames. Gradually his thoughts began to unkink. He found himself wondering--not without admiration--at Tansy's relatively cool behavior. He would never have dared to try reasoned argument on any other woman in a similar situation. But that was like Tansy. Always fair. Always willing to listen to logic. Empirical. Except that she had gotten off on a crazy sidetrack. He reached down to stroke Totem, who did not look away from the hypnotic flames. "Time we got to bed, old man. Must be about twelve. No--quarter-past one." As he slipped back the watch, the fingers of his other hand went automatically to the charm at the end of the chain--more a locket than a charm--a gift from Tansy. He gazed ruminatingly at the flattened golden heart, weighed it in his palm. It seemed perhaps a trifle heavier than its metal shell would account for. He snapped up the cover with his thumbnail. There was no regular way of getting at the space behind Tansy's photograph, so, after a moment's hesitation, he carefully edged it out with a pencil point. Behind the photograph was a tiny packet, wrapped in the finest flannel. Just like a woman, was his first thought--to seem to give in completely, but to hold out on something. Perhaps she had forgotten. Angrily he tossed the packet into the fireplace. The photograph fluttered along with it, lighted on the bed of embers, and flared before he could snatch it out. He had a glimpse of Tansy's face curling and blackening. The packet took longer. A yellow glow crept across its surface, as the nap singed. Then a wavering four-inch flame shot up. Simultaneously a chill went through him, though he still felt the heat from the embers. The room seemed to darken. There was a faint, mighty roaring in his ears, as of motors far underground. He had the sense of standing suddenly naked and unarmed before something menacingly alien. Totem had turned around and was peering intently at the shadows in the far corner. With an expectorant hiss she sprang sideways and darted from the room. He realized he was trembling. Nervous reaction, he told himself. Might have known it was overdue. The flame died, and once again there was only the bed of embers. Explosively, the phone began to jangle. "Professor Saylor? I just want to tell you that you're not going to get away with what you're trying to do to me. I'm not going to be flunked out of Hempnell without a protest." The voice spluttered with rage. It was some moment before he recognized the student and cut in. "Now listen, Jennings, if you thought you were being treated unfairly, why didn't you present your grievances three months ago, when you got your grades?" "Why? Because I let you pull the wool over my eyes. I didn't realize until this minute that you were behind it all." "Be reasonable. You flunked two courses besides mine last semester."