In 22A they unpacked a suitcase full of meters and began flashing them around and taking readings. Suddenly Wynn bent close over one of them and shouted: "Wait a sec, Roberts. I'm getting something. Yeah! This reading checks with the lab's. Sounds like the blips're coming from those lockers back there." Roberts rummaged around awhile, then shouted: "Hey, Wynn, look! A lot of parts. Well I'll be--hey--it's a female mech!" "A what?" "A female mech. Look for yourself." Min and I had to act surprised too. It wasn't easy. The way they were slamming Elizabeth's parts around made us kind of sick. "It's a stolen robot!" Roberts announced. "Look, the identification's been filed off. This is serious, Wynn. It's got all the earmarks of a mech fraternization case." "Yeah. The boys in the lab were dead right, too. No two robots ever register the same on the meters. The contraband blips check perfectly. It's _got_ to be this Frank Nineteen. Wait a minute, _this_ proves it. Here's a suit of space fatigues with Nineteen's number stenciled inside." Inspector Roberts took a notebook out of his pocket and consulted it. "Let's see, Nineteen's got Flight 180, he's due here at the spotel tomorrow. Well, we'll be here too, only Nineteen won't know it. We'll let Romeo put his plastic Juliet together and catch him red-handed--right in the middle of the balcony scene." Wynn laughed and picked up the girl's head. "Be a real doll if she was human, Roberts, a real doll." Min and I played gin rummy that night but we kept forgetting to mark down the score. We kept thinking of _Frank_ falling away from the asteroids and counting the minutes until he saw his mech girl friend. Around noon the next day the big servo checked in, signed the register and headed straight for 22A. The two Minor Planets inspectors kept out of sight until Frank shut the door, then they watched through the SHA vents until Frank had the assembly job finished. "You two better be witnesses," Roberts said to us. "Wynn, keep your gun ready. You know what to do if they get violent." Roberts counted three and kicked the door open. "Freeze you mechs! We got you in the act, Nineteen. Violation of company rules twelve and twenty-one. Carrying of Contraband Cargo, and Robot Fraternization." "This finishes you at Minor Planets, Nineteen," growled Wynn. "Come clean now and we might put in a word for you at Robot Court. If you don't we can recommend a verdict of Materials Reclamation--the junk pile to you." Frank acted as if someone had cut his power. Long creases appeared in his big neoprene chest as he slumped hopelessly in his chair. The frightened girl robot just clung to his arm and stared at us. "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth," the big servo said softly. "I'd hoped we'd have longer. It couldn't last forever." "Quit stalling, Nineteen," said Wynn.