“Psychical Research Society,” she said. “Oh, Mr. Malone, good evening.” “Sir Lewis,” Malone said. “Sir Lewis Carter. President. I want to talk to him. Hurry.” “Sir Lewis?” the girl said slowly. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Malone, but the office is closed now for the day. And Sir Lewis has gone already. It’s after six o’clock, Mr. Malone, and the office is closed.” “Home number,” Malone said desperately. “I’ve got to.” “Well, I can do that, Mr. Malone,” she said, “but it wouldn’t do you any good, really. Because he went away on his vacation, and when he goes on his vacation he never tells us where. You know? He won’t be back for two or three weeks.” “Oog,” Malone said, and thought for less than a second. “Miss Garbitsch,” he said. “Lou. Got to talk to her. Now.” “Oh, I can’t do that, either, Mr. Malone,” the toothy girl said. “All of the executive officers, they left already on their vacation. And that includes Miss Garbitsch, too. They just left a skeleton force here at the office.” “They’re all gone?” Malone said hollowly. “That’s right,” she said cheerfully. “As a matter of fact, I’m in charge now, and that’s why I’m staying so late. To sort of catch up on things. You know?” “It’s very important,” Malone said tensely. “You don’t know where any of them went? You don’t have any address?” “None at all,” she said. “I’m sorry, but that’s how it is. Maybe it’s strange, and maybe you’d ask questions, but I obey orders, and those’re my orders. To take over until they get back. They didn’t tell me where they went, and I didn’t ask.” “Great,” Malone said. He wanted to shoot himself. Lou was one of them. Of course she was; that was obvious now, when he thought about it. Lou was one of the secret group that was sabotaging practically everything. And now they’d all gone. For two weeks—or for good. The girl’s voice broke in on his thoughts. “Oh, Mr. Malone,” she said, “I’m sorry, but I just remembered. They left a note for you.” “A note?” Malone said. “Sir Lewis said you might call,” the girl said, “and he left a message. If you’ll hold on a minute I’ll read it to you.” Malone waited tensely. The girl found a slip of paper, blinked at it and read: “My dear Malone, I’m afraid you are perfectly correct in your deductions; and, as you can see, that leaves us no alternative. Sorry. Miss G. sends her apologies to you, as do I.” The girl looked up. “It’s signed by Sir Lewis,” she said. “Does that mean anything to you, Mr. Malone?” “I’m afraid it does,” Malone said bleakly. “It means entirely too much.” 12 After the great mass of teeth, vaguely surrounded by a face, had faded from Malone’s screen, he just sat there, looking at the dead, grey screen of the visiphone and feeling about twice as dead and at least three times as grey.