And that could be disastrous. There had to be some alternative choice, in case anything like that should happen. There had to be an out. Without one, they'd be trapped. They had to admit that some day, somehow, it _would_ happen. Someone _would_ find them out. And they had to be prepared to handle it. It would have to be handled in some way that didn't involve murder. What other way _was_ there? There had to be some other way. _Had_ to. Morrow chewed down his fingernails as the train lurched and rattled onward.... They pulled into Westerton with a hissing roar of steam and jolted to a stop beside the station. Morrow climbed down from the coach, wearily, and strode through the station to the street. It was late afternoon, but it was still hot. He pulled off his tie, stuffed it into his coat pocket, and unfastened his collar. Then he pulled off his coat, threw it over his shoulder, and rolled up his sleeves. That was better. Now for a bite to eat. He strolled down the shady side of Railroad Avenue toward Switzer's Cafe. _Beyond the law!_ his footsteps rang on the sidewalk. _Beyond the law, beyond the law--_ Suppose someone did find them out? They could ask no one to protect their interests. There'd be no help from the authorities. They'd have to protect themselves--against anyone and everyone! How could they do that without guns, without the possibility of killing someone? They couldn't accept defeat that easily. The secret was too important to the future of mankind! But what could they _do_? _Beyond the law! Beyond the law--_ "Bill! Hey, wait up!" * * * * * Morrow stopped as if someone had jerked him back on a string. He whirled toward the sound of the voice before his mind had recognized it. Gwyn came trotting down the street toward him, swinging a tennis racket in her hand. She was dressed in a white, short-skirted tennis suit. She stopped beside him, breathlessly, and put her arm through his. "Where you going?" "Switzer's," he said. "Join me in a sandwich?" "Okay." They strolled onward. Her skirt rippled over her smooth thighs, accentuating her tanned, slender legs. "I go on the four o'clock shift tomorrow. Want to come down at midnight and walk me home?" "At _midnight_?" he taunted. "Sure! It's the witching hour!" She wrinkled her nose up at him, teasingly. "What're you all dressed up in your suit for? Going somewhere?" "Had to go to Newark today," he said. "To meet someone." "Oh! Don't they even let you alone on Sundays?" "Sometimes, honey." He grinned. "When are you going swimming with me again?" "Well, if you want to _swim_--" She broke off and gazed up at him with mocking cynicism. Suddenly, her gaze went past him and she tugged at his arm. "Oh! Wait a second." She guided him into the little newsstand and left him by the cigar counter, going on over to the magazine racks. Morrow stood back and admired her firm, shapely posterior.