He turned away. And froze. Bill had moved. Conger's fingers went to his belt. _Half pressure_, he whispered to himself. _No more. Half pressure._ He squeezed. The room leaped around him. He himself was protected by the lining of his clothing, the plastic sheathing inside. "My God--" Lora put her hands up. Conger cursed. He hadn't meant any of it for her. But it would wear off. There was only a half-amp to it. It would tingle. Tingle, and paralyze. He walked out the door without looking back. He was almost to the corner when Bill came slowly out, holding onto the wall like a drunken man. Conger went on. * * * * * As Conger walked, restless, in the night, a form loomed in front of him. He stopped, holding his breath. "Who is it?" a man's voice came. Conger waited, tense. "Who is it?" the man said again. He clicked something in his hand. A light flashed. Conger moved. "It's me," he said. "Who is 'me'?" "Conger is my name. I'm staying at the Appleton's place. Who are you?" The man came slowly up to him. He was wearing a leather jacket. There was a gun at his waist. "I'm Sheriff Duff. I think you're the person I want to talk to. You were in Bloom's today, about three o'clock?" "Bloom's?" "The fountain. Where the kids hang out." Duff came up beside him, shining his light into Conger's face. Conger blinked. "Turn that thing away," he said. A pause. "All right." The light flickered to the ground. "You were there. Some trouble broke out between you and the Willet boy. Is that right? You had a beef over his girl--" "We had a discussion," Conger said carefully. "Then what happened?" "Why?" "I'm just curious. They say you did something." "Did something? Did what?" "I don't know. That's what I'm wondering. They saw a flash, and something seemed to happen. They all blacked out. Couldn't move." "How are they now?" "All right." There was silence. "Well?" Duff said. "What was it? A bomb?" "A bomb?" Conger laughed. "No. My cigarette lighter caught fire. There was a leak, and the fluid ignited." "Why did they all pass out?" "Fumes." Silence. Conger shifted, waiting. His fingers moved slowly toward his belt. The Sheriff glanced down. He grunted. "If you say so," he said. "Anyhow, there wasn't any real harm done." He stepped back from Conger. "And that Willet is a trouble-maker." "Good night, then," Conger said. He started past the Sheriff. "One more thing, Mr. Conger. Before you go. You don't mind if I look at your identification, do you?" "No. Not at all." Conger reached into his pocket. He held his wallet out. The Sheriff took it and shined his flashlight on it. Conger watched, breathing shallowly. They had worked hard on the wallet, studying historic documents, relics of the times, all the papers they felt would be relevant. Duff handed it back. "Okay. Sorry to bother you." The light winked off.