"These men tried to kill me," I told the two police officers. * * * * * Zealley's bland features simulated surprise. "I?" he asked. "I heard noise in here as I was passing in the hall. I came in to see what the trouble was." "He's lying," I said as the policemen turned inquiringly toward me. "He's with them." Zealley shook his head sadly. "He must be delirious--" he began, but the evidence was all on my side. "Shut up!" one of the officers said, grabbing him by the shirt front and jerking him to his feet. I had started dressing immediately. I wanted to hide the wound in my stomach. It burned, but I kept my face blank. Zealley was silent now. If I had been just superficially wounded, his bluff would have worked--I'd have healed right there and then. I hadn't, so he had to wait for developments. I hoped I could give him some. While one of the officers worked to revive the youth--the thug named Steve was already on his feet--I went to the bowl in the alcove and washed the blood off my hands and stomach. They had the kid upright when I turned around: "Are you hurt bad?" the policeman holding Zealley asked me. "Not too bad." I managed to keep my voice steady. "I'll be all right until you can send an ambulance." He stood uncertainly for a moment. "I don't like to leave you alone, but I can put in a call from our cruiser. The ambulance should get here within ten minutes." "I'll be OK," I said. The sound of the closing door was the only way I had to know they were gone. For the past half minute, my tight grip on the bed headboard was all that held me erect. Now the starch went out of my body and I crumpled to the floor. This time I did not blank out, but lay twisted and tight, waiting for the pain to stop--or to kill me. A small easing of the torment came and I forced myself to relax. I was able now to steel my mind against the racking spasms and pull myself to my feet. I was not at all safe yet; even if I was not mortally wounded, it would take the symbiote hours to repair the damage. I managed to pull on my clothes with numbed, awkward fingers and get out of the room before the ambulance arrived. I took with me only my grip. I would still need that. There was small chance that the police could hold Zealley. He would probably be free on bail this same afternoon. The odds were against me. I was fighting in Zealley's own back yard, wounded and entirely alone, while he must have been prepared for this contingency for years. But I had succeeded in the first part of my plan. I had found out who he was, and I had put him in a position where he could not use his superior resources, for a time at least. Now I had to get to him before he was able to mobilize those resources. * * * * *