Lexington nodded. "I figured fifty at the time, but things are moving faster nowadays. Lex hasn't stood still, of course. She still reads all the trade journals, from cover to cover, and we keep up with the world. If something new comes up, we're in on it, and fast. We're going to be ahead of the pack for a long time to come." "If you'll excuse me, sir," said Peter, "I don't see where I fit in." Peter didn't realize Lexington was answering his question at first. "A few weeks ago," the old man murmured, "I decided to see a doctor. I'd been feeling low for quite a while, and I thought it was about time I attended to a little personal maintenance." Lexington looked Peter squarely in the face and said, "The report was that I have a heart ailment that's apt to knock me off any second." "Can't anything be done about it?" asked Peter. "Rest is the only prescription he could give me. And he said that would only spin out my life a little. Aside from that--no hope." "I see," said Peter. "Then you're looking for someone to learn the business and let you retire." "It's not retirement that's the problem," said Lexington. "I wouldn't be able to go away on trips. I've tried that, and I always have to hurry back because something's gone wrong she can't fix for herself. I know the reason, and there's nothing I can do about it. It's the way she's built. If nobody's here, she gets lonely." Lexington studied the desk top silently for a moment, before finishing quietly, "Somebody's got to stay here to look after Lex." * * * * * At six o'clock, three hours after he had entered Lexington's plant, Peter left. Lexington did not follow him down the corridor. He seemed exhausted after the afternoon's discussion and indicated that Peter should find his own way out. This, of course, presented no difficulty, with Lex opening the doors for him, but it gave Peter an opportunity he had been hoping for. He stopped in the reception room before crossing the threshold of the front door, which stood open for him. He turned and spoke to the apparently empty room. "Lex?" he said. He wanted to say that he was flattered that he was being considered for the job; it was what a job-seeker should say, at that point, to the boss's secretary. But when the soft voice came back--"Yes, Mr. Manners?"--saying anything like that to a machine felt suddenly silly. He said: "I wanted you to know that it was a pleasure to meet you." "Thank you," said the voice. If it had said more, he might have, but it didn't. Still feeling a little embarrassed, he went home. At four in the morning, his phone rang. It was Lexington. "Manners!" the old man gasped. The voice was an alarm. Manners sat bolt upright, clutching the phone. "What's the matter, sir?" "My chest," Lexington panted. "I can feel it, like a knife on--I just wanted to--Wait a minute." There was a confused scratching noise, interrupted by a few mumbles, in the phone.