After a few minutes, Lydman turned and went out the door. Westervelt tried to listen for footsteps, but the resilient flooring prevented him from guessing which way the ex-spacer had gone. He saw Smith approaching, and went to meet him. "I've changed my mind," said the chief. "For a little bit, anyway, we'll leave him alone. He said he was sketching up some gizmo he wants to have built, and needed peace and quiet." "Did he say we ... were talking too loud?" asked Westervelt, looking at the doorway rather than meet Smith's eye. "No, that was all he said," answered Smith. There was a questioning undertone in his voice, but Westervelt chose not to hear it. After a short wait, Smith asked Simonetta to bring her taper into his office. He mentioned that he hoped to phone for some technical information. Westervelt watched them leave, then sank down on the corner of the desk at which Pauline was relaxing. Beryl turned around in her chair. "Pssst! Pauline!" she whispered. "Is he gone?" "They all left--except Willie," the girl told her. Beryl shut the door promptly. The pair left in the office heard her turn the lock with a brisk snap. "What's the matter with her?" murmured Pauline. "Nothing," said Westervelt glumly. "Why don't you take a nap, or something?" "I'd like to," said Pauline. "It's going on seven o'clock and who knows when we'll get out of here?" "Shut up!" said Westervelt. "I mean ... uh ... don't bring us bad luck by talking about it. Take a nap and let me think!" "All you big thinkers!" jeered Pauline. "What I'd really like to do is go down to the ladies' room and take a shower, but you always kid me about Mr. Parrish maybe coming in with fresh towels for the machine." "I lied to you, Pauline," said Westervelt. "The charwoman brings them." "Well, I could always hope," giggled Pauline. "Not tonight," said Westervelt "Believe me, kid, you're safer than you'll ever be!" FOURTEEN Pauline came back in a quarter of an hour, her youthfully translucent skin glowing and her ash-blonde curls rearranged. She glanced through the window at Beryl, who was nervously punching a number for an outside call. "What's going on?" she asked Westervelt, who sat with his heels on the center desk. "Mr. Smith is calling a couple of engineers he knows," Simonetta told her. Westervelt had just heard it, when Simonetta had emerged with a tape to transcribe. He had started to mention that it might be better to phone a psychiatrist, but had bitten back the remark. _For all I know_, he reflected, _they might take me away! Everything I remember about today can't really have happened. If it did, I wish it hadn't!_