Parr concentrated on the wording, filling in the blank spots with his imagination. Suddenly he was conscious of an inadequacy, something elusive that he should be able to add. He wrinkled his face, annoyed. But the uncertainty refused to resolve itself into words. "His name is Lauri. He's here on a mission having to do with the natives. I got no details, but it doesn't directly concern us, I'm sure of that. There appear to be several more on the planet. They seem to avoid cities, which accounts for the fact that advancemen haven't reported them." For a moment, he almost placed his thoughts on the elusiveness, but again it escaped him. He paused, puzzled. "We'll have the advancemen warned. This may be damned inconvenient, Parr. If there are many of them." "I couldn't get the exact number without exploring his mind. If I'd done that, I might not have been able to report afterwards." "Go on." "He's leaving the city in a few days. You still want ... me to try to kill him?" "Yes." The Oholo, Parr could not help remembering, had as strong a mind as he had ever encountered. * * * * * Wednesday morning Parr walked to the Biltmore, not hurrying, not anxious to face a free and dangerous Oholo. At the side of the hotel he risked contact. A shutter movement of thought told him the quarry was still inside the building. He crossed Olive at Fifth with the light and angled right into Pershing Square. He located a seat from which he could observe the entrance of the Biltmore. For one moment he considered mental assault; but remembering how strong the mind was he faced he discarded that course. He waited. He walked around the Square. The morning seemed endless. Finally he risked another shutter of thought. The Oholo was still there. Noon. He ate in a drugstore across the street. Still there. As the afternoon wore on, the weariness of waiting left his body and the success of the shutter contact inflamed him with confidence. He could cross the street, enter the hotel, seek out the room. But he delayed--without admitting to himself that he was still afraid. The gloom in the air was pre-sunset, city gloom, nostalgic. He consciously dilated his pupils to accommodate the fading light, unaware now of the scurry of people on the sidewalks and the roar of the city cloaking for night amusement. Neon lights came on like cheap fire, out of the darkness, infinitely lonely. He shifted uncomfortably. He stood up. He could wait no longer. Then a man and woman emerged from the hotel. And he tensed. A wisp of thought, unsuspicious, floated to him on mental laughter. The Oholo, Lauri. He shielded his mind even tighter, scarcely thinking. He began to amble in the direction the couple were taking, keeping to the opposite side of the street. At Sixth they turned toward him, waited through the yellow for the green light. They crossed.