He kept to his apartment after that, and studied furiously. No man _could_ overcontrol an awake opponent in a direct shot--if the ball was all right. As the ball closed in, the approached player's influence grew proportionately stronger, while his opponent's lessened in inverse ratio. That was the reason Grant had originally declared the sport to be safe. He interrupted his work only briefly for Tony's funeral, and felt an obscure shame in facing Bee Anthony. Then the cellular organism of the sphere used in the game absorbed his attention again. It was an artificially nurtured nerve-center, a growth devised by himself, and seemed to offer the only possible answer. _Perhaps this sub-life had acquired learning ability--the ability to act independently._ It seemed absurd, and yet how much was really known of this highly irritable stuff called living matter? Bee found him at his apartment the fourth morning. She seemed much more relaxed. "Tony hated useless grief," she said. "I had to come here, Granny. I had to know that we might see the end of all this." "Yes." Grant still felt a vague shame. "We'll have to stop Slag short, before he adds any more victims." "Oh, it's more than that! It's the people, too, and the knowledge that more Slags may appear. If all the matches suddenly...." She broke off, frowning, as if uncertain whether to continue. "You see, Granny, Tony decided to play because of that. It wasn't even the charities, really. The people distrust you. Not just because you were wrong, but because they are suspicious of any probing into the powers of mind. They prefer fantasy to scientific hypothesis, and now Slag's triumphs...." She faltered, and unhappily twisted her face away. "But Tony could have crushed Slag, too." "You know that was different. He had Slag hypnotized first. But Tony was awake when the ball struck!" "You're right, Bee. Frankly, I don't know what the answer could be. I'm working on the core of the ball. There is a chance--" "I'm sure it was something else! Granny, have you thought of the screen? There must have been a leak, or a failure. Think of that crowd, hoping for their hero. Suppose they subconsciously influenced the sphere, directed it at Tony." He thought of the mob's reaction when Slag was helpless, and kept silent. It would be cruel to blast her one hope with nothing to offer in exchange. "You think I'm wrong, but what else would it be? The ball couldn't kill Tony by itself." Then she was in tears. "I should have been there to stop it. He wouldn't take a second--I begged him to let me--and I would have _sensed_ any outside influence!" Grant recognized the guilt feelings she was suffering from. He tried to give comfort, but suddenly she was a woman, proud and independent, and would not stay. Only at the door for one moment did she turn appealingly to him. "Granny, you're not going to play Slag!"