Zorchi's house was far outside the city, along the road to New Caserta. It lay at the bend of the main highway, and I suppose I could have passed it a hundred thousand times without looking inside, it was so clearly the white-stuccoed, large but crumbling home of a mildly prosperous peasant. It was large enough to have a central court partly concealed from the road. The secretary, spectacles and all, met us at the door--and that was a shock. "You must have roller skates," I told him. He shrugged. "My employer is too forgiving," he said, with ice on his voice. "I had hoped to reach him before he made an error. As you see, I was too late." We lifted Benedetto off the seat; he was just barely conscious by now, and his face was ivory under the Mediterranean tan. I shook the secretary off and held Benedetto carefully in my arms as Rena held the door before me. The secretary said, "A moment. I presume the car is stolen. You must dispose of it at once." I snarled over my shoulder, "It isn't stolen, but the people that own it will be looking for it all right. _You_ get rid of it." He spluttered and squirmed, but I saw him climbing into the seat as I went inside. Zorchi was there waiting, in a fancy motorized wheelchair. He had legs! Apparently they were not fully developed as yet, but in the short few days since I had rescued him _something_ had grown that looked like nearly normal limbs. He had also grown, in that short time, a heavy beard. The sneer, however, was the same. I made the error of saying, "Signore Zorchi, will you call a doctor for this man?" The thick lips writhed under the beard. "_Signore_ it is now, is it? No longer the freak Zorchi, the case Zorchi, the half-man? God works many miracles, Weels. See the greatest of them all--it has transmuted the dog into a _signore_!" I grated, "For God's sake, Zorchi, call a doctor!" He said coldly, "You mentioned this over the phone, did you not? If you would merely walk on instead of bickering, you would find the doctor already here." * * * * * Plasma and antibiotics: They flowed into Benedetto from half a dozen plastic tubes like oil into the hold of a tanker. And I could see, in the moments when I watched, the color come back into his face, and the sunken eyes seem to come back to life. The doctor gave him a sedative that made him sleep, and explained to us that Benedetto was an old man for such goings-on. But if he could be kept still for three or four weeks, the doctor said, counting the lire Zorchi's secretary paid him, there was no great danger. If he could be kept still for three or four weeks. In scarcely ten days, the atmosphere of the planet would be death to breathe! Many things might happen to Benedetto in that time, but remaining still was not one of them. Zorchi retired to his own quarters, once the doctor was gone, and Rena and I left Benedetto to sleep.