Danny laid the mechanism on the ground and stamped on it dispassionately. When the destruction was complete he scooped up the remains and tossed the useless unit into a small stream that gurgled nearby. His knees were weak. He buried his face in the grass and let sobs shake him until there were no tears. He smoothed his hair and wiped his face and got up. The way was not exactly clear, but he knew he was going to reach it. He would have to do it alone. * * * * * There was always a chance a passerby might look into the entrance and see him. Danny worked according to plan. He adjusted the ultraviolet cell, fanning it out to a thin vertical beam of the proper height. He sat it on the floor and aimed it at the dark stripe that looked like a decoration but wasn't. It was a photo electric eye, continuous from floor to ceiling. It was also, Danny knew, a minimum intensity circuit. And that made it easier. Danny walked through the circuit, behind the cell he had set on the floor. The alarm didn't ring. It wouldn't, as long as the eye received an unbroken beam from any source. In the ultraviolet cell he had provided such a source. He reached back and drew the cell toward him, carefully pointing it at the dark stripe on the wall until his hand was safely through. He snapped off the cell and hurried around the corner. He was beyond chance human detection. He went on. There was a door, locked, as he expected. An old fashioned lock, mechanical type, in keeping with the character of Music Hall. It had been a good lock when it was made, nearly unpickable. Danny inserted a wire device and listened. He turned, and the door swung open. He stepped back a few feet in the darkness, ran, and jumped forward. The lights did not go on. He had jumped far enough. It was merely a pressure plate, designed to count visitors. But one visitor would activate the auditorium staff. And that he didn't want. He closed the door behind him and made his way into the balcony by way of a rest room. From the balcony he climbed into a box. From there a little used passageway led to the stage. It was easy, ridiculously so. The piano was lighted by a soft violet light, probably germicidal. Danny paused at the entrance to the enclosure. It was useless to struggle against the hand, that, from nowhere, fastened to his arm. He was no match for the strength of a robot. "I knew there was something wrong," said the caretaker. The face that looked at Danny was dignified and kindly, if expressionless. Danny said nothing. "Humidity changes," muttered the robot caretaker. "Not much, but some on three successive days. No one is supposed to be here. Can't have it. Wood will rot and metal rust." It seemed vaguely disturbed. Danny squirmed. The caretaker took hold of both arms and looked closer. "Why, it's human." It squeezed harder as if to test. Tears came to Danny's eyes. "I belong here," he said stubbornly.