He went back to Ardith and, late at night, approached the dwelling of Count Avondrin. A servant arose and admitted the visitor, not knowing then or ever that he did so. The bedroom door was locked from the inside, but what of that? What resistance can any mechanism offer to a master craftsman, plentifully supplied with tools, who can perceive every component part, however deeply buried? The door opened. The countess was a light sleeper, but before she could utter a single scream one powerful hand clamped her mouth, another snapped the switch of her supposedly carefully concealed thought-screen generator. What followed was done very quickly. [Illustration: _A throttling hand clamped over her mouth even as she awoke, and in the same instant her thought-screen flicked off._] Mr. Fordyce strolled back to his hotel and Lensman Kinnison directed a thought at Vice-Admiral Gerrond. "Better fake up some kind of an excuse for having a couple of guards or policemen in front of Count Avondrin's town house at eight twenty-five this morning. The countess is going to have a brainstorm." "What _have_ ... what will she do?" Gerrond mastered his emotions sufficiently to keep from swearing. "Nothing much. Scream a bit, rush out of doors half dressed, and fight anything and everybody that touches her. Warn the officers that she'll kick, scratch, and bite. There are plenty of signs of a prowler having been in her room, but if they can find him they're good--_very_ good. She'll have all the signs and symptoms, even to the puncture, of having been given a shot in the arm of some brand-new drug, which the doctors won't be able to find or to identify. But there will be no question raised of insanity or of any other permanent damage--she'll be right as rain in a couple of months." "Oh, that mind-ray machine of yours again, eh? And that's all you're going to do to her?" "That's all. I can let her off easy and still be just, I think. She's helped me a lot. She'll be a good girl from now on, too; I've thrown a scare into her that will last her the rest of her life." "Thanks, Gray Lensman! What else?" "I'd like to have you at the Tellurian Ambassador's Ball day after tomorrow, if it's convenient." "I've been planning on it, since it's on the 'must' list. Shall I bring anything or anyone special?" "No. I just want you on hand to give me any information you can on a person who will probably be there to investigate what happened to the countess." "I'll be there," and he was. * * * * * It was a gay and colorful throng, but neither of the two Lensmen was in any mood for gaiety. They acted, of course. They neither sought nor avoided each other but, somehow, they were never alone together. "Man or woman?" asked Gerrond. "I don't know. All I've got is the recognition."