He paused studying a Community Chest sign, his hearts pounding uncertainly. He felt a curious little probe of thought that was delicate and apologetic, as if reluctant to intrude upon anyone's privacy. It passed him by undetecting. * * * * * The man bent toward the girl, a pert blonde, and laughed in answer to something she had said. Parr watched them go by and then at a short distance swung in behind them. He touched the focus weapon in his right hand pocket, a crystal-like disk with one side tapering to a central point. It was a short-range weapon, palm aimed, fired with an equally exerted pressure on the lateral sides. Even with his mind closed Parr could catch ripples of Oholo thought: amusement, sympathy, appreciation. For a moment he was afraid that he had been mistaken somehow, for again there was the elusiveness, an unreality he could not account for in terms of the situation. Parr narrowed the gap between himself and his prey. And they turned a corner. Parr crossed the street, drew still closer, in time to hear the girl say, laughing, "... slumming once before I go back." The crowd thickened and Parr found himself sidestepping passers-by. He was almost near enough, and his hand was moist on the focus gun. The couple turned into a cellar night club. Parr swore to himself. Taking a nervous breath, he descended the steps. He nodded to the bouncer-doorman who was leaning idly against the wall. He stepped into the night club. He saw the man help the girl to a table. Parr brought out his hand. His eyes were suddenly hot and beady with excitement. On the far side of the room he saw the black lettered sign, "MEN." He would, in crossing to it, pass directly by the Oholo's table. As he began to move forward a woman stumbled unsteadily against him, knocking him off balance. "Whynacha watch where ye're goin', ya ...," she began shrilly, but, with his left hand, he brushed her out of his way. She took a half step backwards, undecided. He turned to glare at her and under his gaze she looked away and tugged nervously at her dress. Parr walked swiftly toward the rest room, his every energy concentrated on his mind shield. As he passed the table, the girl shuffled uneasily on the chair. Without breaking stride, Parr fired the focus gun into the man's back. He was clear of the tables when he heard, from behind, the initial surprised, "Oh!" He had one hand on the door marked "MEN" when he felt the confusion in his mind. Automatically, he pushed open the door. A puzzling realization that something was wrong.... He turned left, from the narrow corridor into the rest room proper. And he went down to his hands and knees on the filthy tile, writhing in agony. CHAPTER IV The hurt, mostly, was in his brain, and he choked back a scream. He could not think. And then the outer edge of the shield began to crumble.