It was a spacious office, on the second floor of the mansion Truggles had passed so often. Why a man needed a business office to conduct private biological research was something Truggles could not understand, but this one would have fitted very well in a metropolitan skyscraper. The weight of the pistol in its shoulder holster was comforting to Truggles. Others might not believe Forsythe dangerous. He did. He was protected. "I understand you are determined to run me out of town, Mr. Truggles," said Forsythe pleasantly, leaning back in his swivel chair and putting his fingertips together. With his back to the window, his face was in slight shadow and he looked like a well-tanned business executive. "You either have a well-organized spy network or some of the strange powers your associates attribute to you, Mr. Forsythe," replied Truggles easily. It would have been easier to deal with a man who did not exhibit such self-confidence, who was a little worried and nervous, but everyone seemed to be conspiring to make this project difficult for Truggles. Forsythe smiled, and his teeth were white as shining ivory in his dark face. "My extraordinary powers don't lie along those lines," he said. "I'd be obliged to someone who could tell me along what lines they do lie. I've had flashes of them from time to time, but I'm afraid they couldn't be explained to you." "I don't want to see you run out of town, Mr. Forsythe," said Truggles. "I came here in the hope of offering you friendship and help. The people of Marston Hill are disturbed--I might say, aroused--at your insistence on polygamous practices. I hope to persuade you to abandon such unsocial behavior, so I may have some background for reasoning with them in your behalf." Truggles expected the usual retort--that the people of the town had minded their own business (i.e., been blind to what was going on) until Truggles came to town. Instead, Forsythe said: "I have conformed to human social standards. My formal religious affiliation is Mohammedan." Truggles quivered with shock. "Mohammedan!" he exclaimed, possibly more outraged by that than by his original suspicion of polygamy. "The Koran allows us four wives, Mr. Truggles. The rest must be concubines." "You admit it! You admit that your so-called research is only a blind for a den of iniquity!" Forsythe rose, and stepped from behind his desk. Suddenly alarmed, Truggles cringed. Forsythe was a very big man. Truggles' fingers strayed toward the shoulder holster. But Forsythe smiled. "The research is genuine," he said. "Come with me, Mr. Truggles. I'd like for you to meet several of my wives. You may ask them questions if you wish." He took the nervous Truggles firmly by the arm, lifted him almost bodily from his chair and escorted him into the anteroom. The pretty secretary looked up from her desk.