She studied Pearce a moment, her dark eyes solemn. Then she moved her slim shoulders in a philosophical shrug. "Since we've come this far, I guess we'll just have to put up with it." "That's the spirit!" Pearce said. "Just put your lives in my hands, little ones--and let the insurance premiums fall where they may." He bent to pick up the suitcase and the record player, hoping that he had moved quickly enough to hide the pain and unhappiness that had momentarily showed in his face. The situation was proving more difficult than he had thought it would be. He had hoped to make the picnic a light-hearted affair, to keep Fuller and Ellen from suspecting at the very outset that something unusual was taking place. * * * * * He strode into the woods. Fuller followed with the blankets and the beer carton, and Ellen with the basket of food. The glade proved easy enough to locate. It was smaller than Pearce remembered, but the semi-circle of large stones along one side was much the same. The trees that rose all around gave their old effect of seclusion, of shutting out the world. Beyond the enclosure they made were the shadows cast by inter-laced boughs, and through these came the plaintive cries of birds, somehow like the sound of waves on an island shore. Pearce glanced around him slowly, relishing the familiarity of the scene, his thoughts leaping a chasm of fifteen years. One memory in particular was suddenly very vivid. "So this is the place, Andy," Ellen said behind him. "Why, it's just perfect!" She swung to Fuller. "Don't you think this is worth the drive?" "I refuse to give my opinion until I've had enough beer to put me in the proper mood," Fuller growled. "Start opening it, then," Ellen said. "I'll get the food ready." They ate seated on the blankets, around the appetizingly laden tablecloth Ellen had spread. Pearce was too intense to have much of an interest in food, but he managed to consume what normally would have been expected of him. He was sharply aware that the minutes were running out, that the deadline was now swiftly approaching. The knowledge strengthened the undercurrent of dread within him, brought a pang of sadness. But he did not want these last moments with Ellen and Dave to be touched with melancholy, nor did he want them to sense his troubled emotional state. He helped to keep a casual conversation going, and whenever this threatened to lag, he started the record player. Shadows deepened within the glade as the afternoon wore on. Pearce helped Ellen to clean up the picnic remains, then sprawled beside Fuller to finish what was left of the beer. From the record player came the strains of a symphony. Ellen seated herself nearby, tapping one slender foot in time to the music. Distractedly Pearce thought of the fleeting, precious minutes. He glanced at his watch. Fuller abruptly sat up. "There you go again, Andy!" "What?" Pearce was startled.