"My divorce? But--" She stopped. She was about to say, "But how did you know?" when it suddenly occurred to her that George might have hired this man to find out if she were planning one of those rapid Arcturan separations. She hadn't thought to wonder if he suspected she was planning one. If he knew about her divorce plans, he might take counter measures just for spite; with Arcturan divorce regulations as they were, that would be bad. She said, "I'm not divorced, Mr...." "Jones," the man supplied, smiling. "I know that, Mrs. Bennet, but I also know that you're going to Arcturus to obtain one. I'd like to talk to you about that, confidentially of course." * * * * * She was certain of it now. He knew her name and spoke about a divorce no one but she knew of. "I'm sorry," she said coldly, turning her head away to indicate that as far as she was concerned the interview was at an end, "I gave no one to understand that. I'm accompanying my husband on a business trip. Now, if you'll please--" "Nevertheless," the man insisted, "your intentions are plain, perhaps not to others or even your husband--but to us, very clear. Let me be frank, Mrs. Bennet. I represent an organization which can be of great benefit to you, providing you help us by accepting our standard plan." "Your organization?" she questioned. The man waved a vague hand. "The organization is of necessity nameless. However, it is quite effective. In fact, the only way you've heard of us, without realizing it, is through the effects we produce for our clients." "What sort of--effects?" "I promised to be frank, Mrs. Bennet. I shall. Your husband is an android, and you hate him for that reason and for others." Silvia gasped. "How did you know? That he's an android, I mean?" The man smiled. "Our organization has access to a great deal of information; it's an integral part of our business, this information, serving as a springboard for contacting prospective clients like you." "You mean," she said testily, "you'd like to help me get a divorce?" She smiled, adding, "For a fee, naturally." The man shook his head no. "Something more permanent. We'd like to make a widow of you." For a moment Silvia sat paralyzed, thinking she had not heard right. After awhile, she said, "You'd like to what?" "You were carefully studied," the man went on, "and we know the idea of your husband's death is not repugnant to you; that's why I'm suggesting the idea simply, without any cat-and-mouse tactics. Your husband has insurance amounting to slightly less than one hundred thousand credits; our fee will be one-tenth of that plus one-tenth of any other monies which may accrue as a result of his death." Silvia sat in shocked silence, not knowing what to say. "You're crazy," she managed finally. "I'll call the officers--"