She was breathing unevenly now. Trapped! The thing in the apartment, the man in the hall. Her eyes darted to the elevator, then back, down the hall, past the door marked 404 ... the door marked 404! She covered the few yards in a mad dash, flung herself at the door, pounding wildly. "Please, please!" she sobbed. "Mrs. Moffatt, open, please!" The door opened at once. Mrs. Moffatt's round, wrinkled face beamed at her. "Come in, my dear, come in." She almost fell over the landing. The door closed behind her. She stumbled to the davenport, sank down, gasping. Two cats rubbed against her legs, purring. Two cats? She heard herself say stupidly, "Mrs. Moffatt, where's the other cat?" and wondered why she said it. Then she understood. The old lady's face quivered, altered, melted into something ... something green. * * * * * Outside in the hall, the man from 410 slowly returned to his apartment. Pushing open the door, he thought, I'll never get the nerve to ask her out. Well, probably wasn't a chance, anyhow. What would a girl like her have to do with a lousy cop like me?