"You'd find it pretty hard to tell that one to Doc Rayson and make it stick," Wells told him. "And he's the guy you've got to talk to." He reached into a basket on his desk and took out a stack of papers. "Look, I've told you more'n I was supposed to all ready. Suppose you go over and talk to them for a while. They're waiting for you over in room Five." Don looked at him for a moment, then went out. * * * * * He swung about and examined the closed door thoughtfully, then massaged the back of his neck. "What's wrong with these people?" he asked himself. "Don't they know how to break down a rigged story? Or can't they recognize one when they hear it?" He crossed the hall. "I'm Donald Michaels," he told the secretary. "I believe Dr. Rayson wants to see me." The woman looked at him curiously. "Oh, yes," she said. "Just a minute." She got up and went into an inner room. After a moment, she came out and reclaimed her seat behind her desk. "He's busy right now," she said. "I'll let you know when you can go in." Don shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs that lined the wall. It wasn't a very comfortable chair. "The anxious seat," he growled to himself. "Nice, time-tested trick." There was no reading material at hand, and the walls of the oddly shaped room were blank. He amused himself by directing a blank stare toward the secretary. After a few minutes, she looked up from her work and jerked her head indignantly. "Stop that," she ordered. "Stop what?" Don looked innocent. "Stop staring at me like that." "Not staring at you," he told her. "I have to look somewhere and the chair faces your way. That's all." The woman moved her hands. "Well, then face some other way." "But I'd have to move the chair, and that would disturb your arrangements," Don told her reasonably. He continued his blank stare. The woman resumed her work, then twitched her shoulders and looked at him resentfully for a few seconds. Finally, she got up and went to the inner office again. Don waited. Again, she came out. "They'll see you now," she said. Don got up. "Thank you." He went through the door. To his right, a man sat behind a wide, highly polished desk. The other was across the room, at a smaller desk. Both looked up as the door opened. The man to Don's right nodded pleasantly. "Well, so you're Donald Michaels? I'm Dr. Rayson." "Yes, sir." "That's good. Sit down." Rayson waved. "Right over there." He smiled confidently. "Ah, that's fine. I'm the school psychologist, you know. You have met Mr. Masterson, the self-government faculty advisor, of course?" Don nodded. "Of course. I'm in one of his classes." "Well, that's good. Now, how do you feel this morning?" "Quite well, thank you, sir." "Well, then, we can talk about that little affair in the locker room, can't we? Your memory is clear on it by now, isn't it?" Don nodded.