Unexpectedly docile, Pat did as she was directed. She tied Comstock's hands behind his back, not too tightly, however, Comstock was pleased to notice, and then turning, faced their captor. She asked, "What now, noble Picaroon?" "Good girl," Comstock thought, "She's realized that only madmen are forced to become anti-social creatures." Humming to himself the Picaroon whirled the point of the "sword" under Comstock's chin and said to Pat, "If only you were a little older, child, you and I could make such beautiful music together.... But then there's no reason why I can't keep you here in the Haven till you age properly, now is there?" "No," Pat agreed hastily, "none at all." * * * * * The lunatic whistled cheerily to himself as he cleared a free space on a couch and forced Pat to lie down on it. Then he tied her ankles with a silk scarf, and her wrists with a plastic substance that was known to have a tensile strength equal to that of the metal that this culture used for the framework of their buildings. Donning a broad brimmed hat, and throwing a cape-like cloth around his wide shoulders, the Picaroon bowed deeply to Pat. Walking to one wall, he pressed his fingers against a projecting button and said, "'Tis not long past midnight ... there's a bad night's work still to be done. Tonight, the Picaroon strikes again!" * * * * * He was gone. They were alone. Comstock looked helplessly at Pat. She tried to manufacture a smile but it was no great shakes. "If," Comstock said, "I can get this thing off my wrists, perhaps we can be out of here before that insane creature returns." "Escape from this retreat directly into the Grandfather's Right Arms?" Pat asked gently. Comstock stopped struggling with his bonds for a moment as he considered what she had said. "If we can fend off this 'Picaroon' until about eleven-thirty tomorrow then we can make a dash for Bowdler's house. "I think that's our only chance, and a slim one it is." Almost twelve hours ahead of them, at the mercy of a madman, before they could dare run the daylight gauntlet of the outdoors, under the menace of the R.A.'s. Comstock shuddered. The risk was tremendous, yet what else was there that they could do? He couldn't bear the thought of staying here in the Picaroon's Haven right around the clock, he didn't think he could stand twenty-four hours more of the nerve racking strain he was undergoing, even though that might be a more intelligent plan to attack. Roughly twelve hours more, one way, and a full twenty-four the other.... Pat said, when she saw his brow furrowed with painful thought, "Now's the time to think of my name." "Huh?" he said, not very intelligently. "Patience and Fortitude, remember?" He had the patience, the only question was whether or not he had the fortitude to put up with the Picaroon's mad fantasies.