While I still was brooding, Gogarty came back. He looked unhappy. "Hammond," he said bitterly. "He's missing. Look, was he drunk when you left him last night?" I nodded. "Thought so. Never showed up for work. Not at his quarters. The daily ledger's still open at his office, because there's no responsible person to sign it. So naturally I've got to run out to Caserta now, and what Susan will say--" He muttered away. I remembered the file that was buried under the papers on my desk, when he mentioned Susan's name. As soon as he was out of the office, I had it open. And as soon as I had it open, I stared at it in shock. The title page of the sheaf inside was headed: Signorina Renata dell'Angela. Age 22; daughter of Benedetto dell'Angela; accepted to general Class-AA; no employment. There were more details. But across all, in big red letters, was a rubber stamp: _Policy Canceled. Reassigned Class-E._ It meant that the sad-eyed Rena was completely uninsurable. IV Phone or no phone, I still had her address. It was still daylight when I got out of the cab, and I had a chance for a good look at the house. It was a handsome place by day; the size of the huge white stucco wall didn't fit the _uninsurable_ notation on Rena's claim. That wall enclosed a garden; the garden could hardly hold less than an AA house. And Class-Es were ordinarily either sent to public hostels--at the Company's expense, to be sure--or existed on the charity of friends or relatives. And Class-Es seldom had friends in Class-AA houses. I knocked at the gate. A fat woman, age uncertain but extreme, opened a little panel and peered at me. I asked politely, "Miss dell'Angela?" The woman scowled. "Che dice?" I repeated: "May I see Miss dell'Angela? I'm a Claims Adjuster for the Company. I have some business with her in connection with her policies." "Ha!" said the woman. She left it at that for a moment, pursing her lips and regarding me thoughtfully. Then she shrugged apathetically. "Momento," she said wearily, and left me standing outside the gate. From inside there was a muttering of unfamiliar voices. I thought I heard a door open, and the sound of steps, but when the fat woman came back she was alone. Silently she opened the door and nodded me in. I started automatically up the courtyard toward the enclosed house, but she caught my arm and motioned me toward another path. It led down a flowered lane through a grape arbor to what might, at one time, have been a caretaker's hut. I knocked on the door of the hut, comprehending where Rena dell'Angela lived as a Class-E uninsurable. Rena herself opened it, her face flushed, her expression surprised--apprehensive, almost, I thought at first. It was the first time I had seen her by daylight. She was--oh, there was no other word. She was lovely. She said quickly, "Mr. Wills! I didn't expect you." I said, "You phoned me. I came as soon as I could."