Wheelan finished his beer and bent the can in half. He was angry enough to do it with one hand. "Let's forget it. How've you been?" "Wonderful." She touched one hand to her temple. "Very relaxed." "Which is your night in the temple?" Karen frowned. "Oh, I've only dropped out a couple of times." Rubbing his hands slowly together, Wheelan said, "I'm trying to start an anti-cat league, Karen. Would you join?" Karen laughed and stood up. "How many members have you got?" "I just started mailing yesterday." "But so far?" "None." He picked Karen's coat off the chair he draped it on. "Thanks for dropping in." Getting into her coat Karen said, "Take it easy, Glenn, will you?" "I have to do what I think is right." Karen was smiling as he held the door open for her. * * * * * It was a foggy night, two nights after Wheelan had picketed the fairgrounds and been run off by Chief Neff. Wheelan had decided to walk down toward the beach after dinner. His aunt wasn't speaking to him. Nor was she cooking for him. He got a hamburger at a drive-in across the road from the long narrow San Miguel beach; then wandered through the fog toward the last sidewalk before the sand. He heard a car slow behind him, then saw the nose of a Ford convertible slide out of the thickening mist. Eventually he saw Karen, her dark hair in a thin scarf, smiling at him from behind the wheel. "You mad?" she called. Wheelan finished the hamburger and wiped his hands on his pocket handkerchief. "More or less." "Want to come along for a drive?" He came up to the passenger side of the front seat. "Why don't you put the top down?" "I like the way the fog feels. Come on." She stretched across the front seat and opened the door. "Someplace in particular?" He caught the door as it swung out. "Well, yes. Somebody wants to see you." "Oh?" He got in. "You playing messenger now?" "Don't be nasty. This is for your own good, or I wouldn't be doing it." "Okay. I take your word for it." Wheelan stretched his legs out as far as they would go and folded his arms. Karen made a U-turn on the smooth street and drove carefully back through the town. Near the fairgrounds Wheelan asked, "You taking me to the meeting with you?" Karen shook her head, turning the car sharply up a steep, tree-lined street. They stopped in front of a ranch-style bungalow. "Here we are," she said, getting out of the car. Wheelan followed her up a brick path, his hands in his pockets. The fog was tightening in around them. A short man with a high, lined forehead and cropped gray hair opened the door of the bungalow. "Evening, Karen," he said, smiling. "Mr. Balderstone, Mr. Wheelan," Karen said. Wheelan nodded and came into the house after her. Balderstone stopped in front of a deep fireplace. "Thought we ought to have a chat." "I hear you mentioned me in your service the night I picketed your place," Wheelan said.