Mr. Westing poured another brandy and soda. There was a great deal more brandy than soda. "You work hard, don't you?" he said. "We're in the middle of a big drive now. This is a very important job." The young man took a drink, the kind a man who has always drunk water takes. "Yes, I guess it is rather important. Organizing, getting things done. A very active life." "That's what I like, activity. I like to _live_, not just sit around." "Very understandable." The young man took another drink. His face underwent a subtle change. "Let me turn the machine on. We'd better get started." "Did you have dinner yet?" "I've been too busy." "Good, good." "Good?" "Good that you work so hard. Shows character." "Thank you. Now if you'll just sit back there, we'll turn the machine on." The young man seemed to be having trouble focussing his eyes. Westing lit a good cigar and offered his guest one. "To be sociable," he said. "In that case, all right." "You should have another brandy to go with it." He handed him one as he spoke. The young man took it, gulped it down automatically and turned on the machine. Westing pulled on his cigar and settled back in his chair. He made sure there was another drink by the boy's arm. "Do you know anything about drinking?" "Why no, I don't." "Three's the custom. Three drinks and you're friends. You belong." "Then I guess I better." The room turned dark. Stars covered the walls. The young man took another swallow. "To what do you belong?" a deep voice said. "Of what are you a part? In all this vast Universe, you alone are nothing. You alone have no meaning. But you as part of something bigger...." A sunrise crept along the walls. The coloring was very good and Mr. Westing enjoyed it immensely. Next to him he heard a low sound. The young man was singing. "It's nice to watch the room spin, isn't it?" Mr. Westing asked. "I was just thinking that. It's beautiful." "I know. Excuse me a minute." * * * * * He got up and took the phone into the next room. As soon as he was out of earshot, he dialed the number he had memorized earlier. The phone buzzed a few times. "Hello?" a woman answered. "Is this Miss Marline Harris?" "Yes, who is this?" "My name is Henry Westing. There's a man here trying to get me to join the Organization and I saw your name and your picture in his Prospects book." "Oh, are they after you, too?" "They've been after me for a long time. Your picture looks very attractive, Miss Harris." "Thank you." "Do you like music?" "Yes, I do." A few minutes later he tip-toed into the living room. The film was still playing, the persuasive voice still speaking. Now it was martial music and there were flags all over, waving, inspiring. It takes two, Westing thought. Alone they were getting me. But the two of us together will be stronger. He bent over the couch. The boy was asleep and dreaming. His face looked peaceful.