As Pashkov ran up the steps to the villa, the curtain in the vestibule window stirred. But when he entered, the vestibule was empty. He looked in the dining room, the music room, the library. Nobody. The house was strangely quiet. He came to the door of the study and listened. Not a sound. He went in and there, behind the large writing desk, sat Boris Knackenpast. The robot was unscrewing screws imbedded in his neck. "My God, sir," said Pashkov, "what are you doing?" * * * * * The robot's eyes, large disks of glittering mirror, flashed as he looked up. "Ah, Colonel James," Boris said in a voice that seemed to come from a deep well. "Excuse the poor welcome, but I understand we have little time. You scared my valet; he thought you were Gospodin Pashkov." The door burst open and Medvedev rushed in, the old valet at his heels. Medvedev stopped, gaped, then seized Pashkov's hand. "Colonel James! What an artist, that Monsieur Fanti. But quick, Boris, Pashkov is on his way." Boris pulled off his head, and crawled out of the robot shell. Pashkov saw Boris as he really was, a tall human with a gaunt, ascetic face. The sad thing about us, thought Pashkov, is that Medvedev could not trust even me. But then I could not trust Medvedev, either. Yes, that's the trouble with us. "I hope you need no luggage, Mister Knackenpast," Pashkov said. "We must be off at once." "Too late!" the old valet said from the window. Colonel James had landed. But as he climbed down from his flier, the guards closed a circle about him. "He'll keep," Pashkov said, hitching up his pants. "Let's be off, Mister Knackenpast. It won't take long for Petchareff to smell us out." "Look!" The guards fell back from the flier and snapped to attention. Chewing on his cigar furiously, out stepped Petchareff. Zubov leaped out next, his big front tooth flashing. Then his two assistants, Petya and Kolya, tumbled out in their coats and hats. Last of all to emerge from the flier was Nadezhda Brunhildova. "Pretend not to know me, will he?" she yelled at Colonel James, picking up a rock. "Hold it, citizenress," Colonel James said. "Citizenress, is it?" The rock flew over his head and felled Zubov. "I warned you both, no kitchen squabbles while on duty," Petchareff roared. He snapped an order to the lieutenants of guards, and the guards surrounded the house. "No alarm, no alarm," Pashkov said, pulling Boris away from the window. "Mister Knackenpast, when you see your way clear to my flier, run for it. But get back into your robot costume." "I can't operate the machine." "I'll be right behind you. The rest of us will go out to Petchareff." As they came out, Petchareff was reviving Zubov by slapping his face. The kidnaping expert lay stretched cold on the ground, and Nadezhda Brunhildova stood by, holding the rock and weeping. Colonel James said, "There he is, the American spy."