"I assure you that I feel anything but formal when I hold you in my arms," he answered, following her lead. He made her feel desirable by the things he expressed in his glance. In the meantime the other portion of Ostby's mind had made its decision concerning the lieutenant. "I see the police are making another of their nuisance spot-checks," he said. "I'm afraid I'm due to go through a bit of red tape. I've misplaced my identity card." "I hear they're tracking down some notorious criminal," the Duchess answered. Abruptly her glance, full of sudden speculation, swept up and studied his face. After a short pause she said something that at first thought sounded irrelevant. "I've never danced at the winter games," she said. Ostby drew in a quick breath. She knew! The lieutenant was beside them now. "You won't need to see his identity card, officer. He's with me," Ostby heard the Duchess say, and he let his breath out in a long silent sigh. The lieutenant was not satisfied, but he was clearly afraid to press matters. He bowed to the Duchess as they walked past him. * * * * * Ostby lay on his back, with his knees drawn up and his hands beneath his head. His eyes shifted idly about the room, taking in its every feature automatically. It was this automatic attention to details that had always helped him land on his feet in the past whenever he had been in trouble. And he might be in trouble now. Too much of his trust rested with the Duchess--Rinda, she had asked him to call her. His entire safety rested in her fair hands--and he did not like it. He liked to trust no one except himself. Ostby had accepted the invitation to visit her because he needed a place to hide; and because she knew too much for him to do anything except agree. But he would have chosen otherwise had he had a choice. However, his reason told him that she had not taken him from the grip of the police to turn him in now. And so he lay quietly, with the relaxed alertness of a resting cat. His thoughts were back on Earth. When he had taken this assignment to come through the "door" between the worlds, he had known that there would be hardships, and that his life would be continually in danger, but it was moments like these that he hated the most--moments when he was not able to dictate the next step. Approximately twenty years earlier--in 1950--the aliens had somehow made their "door" between the worlds; that "door" which never appeared twice in the same spot. At first they had been content to come in, circle their noiseless vessels through the air as they observed the Earth, then return through their shifting "door." They had refused all contact. Then gradually evidence began to come in that they were raiding undefended areas, abducting men and stealing property. Their depredations increased through the years until eventually they constituted a major menace.