Romadka studied her through narrowed eyes behind which memory seemed to be at work. Suddenly he smiled thinly. "The description tallies," he said. "You're the young woman Mr. Gish watched undressing last night, and onto whom he grafted a remarkable delusion." "Phil, you never tell me about that," Dytie said, looking at him brightly. "Naturally he wouldn't," Romadka said, a bit primly. "Why not?" Dytie demanded. "I don care. If he like, okay." Romadka looked at her contemptuously. "A common exhibitionist, I see. Nymphomania too." Dytie planted her hands on her hips. "Look, I no say long words good. But your diagnose wrong there. Not nym'omania--satyr'asis. I show you." And then and there she started to peel off a stocking. Phil watched in fascinated horror. Romadka stood up angrily. "Of all the--" he began. "If you think that some crude appeal to my sexual urges--" But at that moment Dytie pulled off her shoe and foot, and held out her dainty black hoof, fur-tufted fetlock and slim pastern for his inspection. "Okay, 'lusion-'mune," she said grimly. "Take good look. Satyr'asis!" Dr. Romadka's knees shook. His face was gray. His eyes bulged. Without warning, Dytie stooped, spun around, and let go with a very accurate kick. The stun-gun shot out of Romadka's trembling hand and clattered against the wall beyond. Romadka snatched his hand away as if the hoof were hell, and stumbled frantically out of the room. The sound of his rapid, uneven footsteps slowly faded out. Phil knew just how he felt. It was all he could do not to follow him. Dytie began to laugh uproariously. While doing so, she hobbled over to the door, shut it and then picked up Romadka's gun. "This stun-gun?" she asked Phil. Phil wet his lips and clutched at the table for support. He knew he must be quite as pale as Romadka. "Dytie," he finally managed to say, his teeth chattering, "you come from a country a lot farther away than Argentina." She smiled apologetically. "Thas right, Phil. I got longer story yours tell." Phil nodded shakily. "But first, if you please ..." he faltered, and pointed at the shoe, foot and crumpled stocking she'd dropped on the floor. "Sure, Phil. I un'erstand." She picked them up and sat down on the edge of the bed to put them on. Phil followed her movements unwillingly, but when it came to the point where she was about to thrust her hoof into the deep well in the false foot and the platform he flinched and looked away. Meanwhile she was saying matter-of-factly, "You no tell 'lusion-'mune man, but you got idea where pussycat is?" "No," he replied nervously, "but I know where I might be able to find out." "Is in this city?" "Yes." "You take me there, Phil?" "I guess so." "Don you want find pussycat too, Phil?" "Yes, I think I do." "Okay, thas fine. You can look now."