"But, miss. You caught him for us. The reward is yours. Don't you want the reward?" "No, please. Not if I'll have to identify myself." "Afraid you will. There's no identification on her, Captain. Can you tie it?" "I can't tie it," said the captain. "No one could tie it." "We have the whole story, miss. All but you. Who you are, how you happened to find him. Fingerprints don't match any in Washington, miss. We've already checked. You won't tell us your name. Description doesn't match any missing persons. Have a heart, miss." "I haven't done anything, have I?" No, she hadn't done anything. "Then just let me go. Please?" She had to hurry. Driving fast, she could just make it back home in time for the peddler. She had to make it. If she did not, the peddler would assume she wanted the adventure-procuring face and body of Jeanne-Marie all her life.... "We'll have to insist on your name and address. We'll have to insist on a routine investigation of you, to close out the case, you understand." "Really, I'll have to be going." "We'll have to insist.... Just go with the matron. Wait back there with the matron. Perhaps (hopefully) you'll talk to the matron?" She would not talk to the matron. But she would go with the matron if they wanted her to. The cabbie was just going outside. She said good-bye. He said good-bye. He said he was very grateful. He had said almost nothing but that for hours. Lucky, who had a broken collar bone, said nothing. They passed a street door. After Lucky, it would be easy. Anything would be easy. She shoved the matron. She opened the door and went outside and slammed the door and ran. "Holy Mac," the cabbie said, getting into his car. "Show me how grateful you are?" "I can't--" "Just to the city line and a subway station. Please? But you've got to hurry...." He uttered an understandable curse and let her in and they sped away before the matron could come outside and see in which direction her charge had disappeared.... At precisely four-fifteen, the cab turned into her block. The driver had changed his mind, had taken her all the way there. She was about to point out her house--knowing she could never be checked there because instead of Jeanne-Marie the police would find, praise be, plain Mary-Jean--when suddenly she spotted him on the street. Rotund little man, long nose, enormous bag. The peddler. "Stop here," she said. The driver needed no coaxing. "I was grateful," he said. "But we're even now, lady. There won't be any charge." And away he went. * * * * * "Hello, there," she said. "Hello," said the peddler. "I made up my mind." "Naturally." "What did you say?" "Naturally, my dear lady. They always do. You've decided you'd had enough of adventure, right?" "Well--y-yes." "Always do. All right." "Don't you have to do anything to change me back?"