"Mr. Truggles, this is Trella, my youngest wife," said Forsythe. "Fortunately, she has had secretarial training, so she fits well in this office." The young woman smiled at Truggles, without embarrassment. He was not so fortunate. He dropped his eyes, the deep blue eyes that had so often been the nemesis of evil-doers. "You said I might question the--the young lady?" he murmured. Forsythe laughed. "I'll leave so you may feel more free," he said, and went back into his office. Truggles looked upon Trella Forsythe with more self-assurance. She was a pert, brown-eyed blonde, in her early twenties. Remembering Phyllis Allison, Truggles could not but admire Forsythe's appreciation of beauty. "How long have you been married to Mr. Forsythe, Mrs.--uh, Miss Trella?" he asked. "Only about six months," she answered. "I hope I'll prove satisfactory." "Satisfactory?" "I don't want to have to leave Blan after two years," she said. "I love him." "My dear child, how can you love a man who has a dozen other wives? How can you lower yourself to be part of such a scheme?" "Why is it that some men never understand women?" she countered, a little angrily. "A woman may be jealous of her man's other loves, but if he's a real man the thing that matters is that he loves _her_. I get along fine with Blan's other wives. We have something in common--we all love him." Truggles resisted a strong temptation to attempt to convert her to sanity on the spot. His powers of convincing women were potent ones, as experience had proved. But, in this case, the root of the evil was Forsythe himself and there was no point in wasting any time on the wives. Truggles had expected Forsythe to conduct him on a tour of what he already had labeled, in his mind, "the harem." But Forsythe remained closeted in his office, and it was Trella who escorted Truggles through a portion of the building. They met three other women, busy at various tasks, all of them young and attractive. Truggles questioned them briefly. He found substantially the same reaction he had received from Trella. When they had mounted the wide stairs again, on their way back to the office, Truggles was introduced to another wife, Lois. The door of a room stood ajar as they came to it, and he happened to see her sitting inside, weeping. He thought Trella appeared reluctant when he stopped and pushed open the door, but she did not protest. "Why are you weeping, my child?" asked Truggles, after he had talked with her for a moment. "I must leave," she explained. "I've been married to Blan two years tomorrow, and I haven't given him a child." "That's the most inhuman thing I ever heard of!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to say he gives you this little time of happiness, and then if you don't produce progeny for him he casts you off like an old shoe?"