"Yes." "Has it been done?" "Not yet." "Why have you not done it?" "I haven't had a chance." "You have a chance now. Frank Corson is in your home." "Yes. I have a chance now." The phone clicked. Rhoda put it down and went back to the sofa. As she sank to the floor, Frank Corson looked at her questioningly. "That was certainly a cryptic conversation." When Rhoda didn't answer, he scowled and snapped, "There you go again. Into the brown study." "Oh, I'm sorry, dear." "What was the phone call about?" "My hairdresser. It was nothing." "Weird conversation to have with a hairdresser." "He's a weird hairdresser." "What had you started to say when the phone rang?" "It just occurred to me--you never told me what happened when that government man talked to you." Frank wished she hadn't brought that up. He'd been ordered to keep the incident in his room strictly to himself. That hadn't been too difficult. It _had_ been hard not to look on the thing as a murder. The blood had looked real and so had the body. But if that was the way Brent Taber wanted it, all right. Frank was amazed at how smoothly everything had been handled. There hadn't even been a police car at the door--just an unmarked delivery truck and two men carrying out what might have been a rolled-up rug. And that had been that. "He didn't say much. Actually, there was no point in mentioning it to you." "What ever happened to the man with two hearts?" "I was wrong. He just had a peculiar heartbeat. As a matter of fact, everybody's heart beats all over their body. Nothing strange about that." "But there's something strange about a doctor not being able to tell the difference between one heart and two. Frank, you _are_ keeping something from me." "Rhoda! For heaven's sake! The government man told me to keep my mouth shut about it." "Does that mean you can't tell even me?" He turned his head and looked into her eyes. "This isn't like you, Rhoda. Not like you at all." "That's silly. I haven't changed." "Yes, you have." "How?" "It's hard to say. You don't seem to have the same sense of values any more. You've--" "Just how have they changed?" If he sensed any inner fright in her question he said nothing about it. "For instance, when I told you I'd given up all ideas of going into research, when I said I'd decided to finish out my internship and establish a practice, you hardly twitched an eyebrow. I thought that would make you happy." "It did, darling. I was delighted. But I'm still a woman and that gives me a right to be curious. What _did_ the government man say?" He sighed and drew her cajoling hand out of his hair. "They've got some wild idea the man who broke his leg wasn't a man at all. They think he was a synthetic of some kind. An android." "Why, that's ridiculous. You saw him. You certainly know a man when you see one." "According to Brent Taber, these androids _are_ men, to all intents and purposes, but they're manufactured."