It was no disguise, it was the multi-personality again. No one looked quite the same in real life as in a picture, because the personality was missing. And with him the difference was far more marked. The camera could register his features accurately, but men couldn't, not when he was actually there to inspire trust and respect--and he did arouse those emotions. Added together, these were some of the reasons why he hadn't hitherto been recognized. "Sorry to have bothered you," he said, pushing between them as they converged on him. "I'm in a hurry." "Sure, sure," said Carl, apologetically, moving aside. "But he's money!" the man with the flashlight cried in an anguished voice. "So he is!" said Carl. The vision of money seemed to carry a lot of weight with him. He seemed reluctant to act, but he reached out and swung Merrol around. "We'll take you to _Interplanet_ and then you can go to the hospital. Don't worry, we aren't going to do nothing. It don't _pay_ us to hurt you." Their original intentions were probably sincere, but now that they thought they'd found money on the street, they weren't willing to let it go. But Merrol was not going to accompany them to _Interplanet_. He jerked away. "We'll split the reward," said Carl. "Too bad we got to carry him in." Merrol tried to elude him, but Carl caught his arm in a bone-cracking hold. That is, it ought to have splintered bone. That it didn't was not due to lack of skill, but to the proportions of the arm to which it was applied. The advantage of leverage went to Merrol and he used it. He broke loose and swung the long arm with the large fist and Carl went down. The man with the light dropped it, climbed on Merrol's back and was pounding away at a nerve. Had he found the nerve, Merrol might have crumpled to the street. He didn't find it, because it wasn't there. The nerve had been surgically rerouted. Merrol peeled him off and tossed him on top of Carl. He tossed him harder than he meant to and neither man moved. He climbed into the hoppicopter and rolled it through the dark streets. They had caused him to lose time and for this they would forfeit the use of their 'copter. They could pick it up in the morning, if they felt like claiming it. He got out and hurried into the hospital. He met others in the corridors--it was a busy place in spite of the lateness--but the first person he recognized was Erica. "Dan!" she said. She didn't use anything scientific, but the hold on him was harder to break than judo. Perhaps because he didn't want to. Later, he became aware of someone tapping his shoulder. He turned around. "These things can be consummated in the privacy of one's own home," murmured Doctor Crander. "But when a life is at stake, passion should be put aside."