"She's a witch!" Joyce said abruptly, an unnatural sharpness in her tone. "A vampire--a ghoul. What she's done is horrible, Terry. Someone should put a stop to her." "She isn't a monster," Bryan returned in swift defense. "Not depraved or vicious. I don't quite understand it, but I feel there's a good reason for what she has been doing." "She's a murderess, Terry!" "According to our standards, yes. But I don't think she realizes she has been causing harm." "That's generous of you," Joyce said. Her mockery held bitterness. "But your lady Bluebeard has to be kept from doing any more killing, Terry. Aren't you going to try to do something about it?" He nodded grimly. "I'm going to keep watching the park. If she shows up again--and I think she will--I'll make an attempt to talk to her, reason with her. I have an idea about how it can be done." "That's fine, Terry. I'm glad I don't have to do anything drastic to make an honest man of you." He stared at her. "What do you mean by that?" "This is a serious business, Terry. Men have died--and more men might die. If you don't do something about it, then somebody else will have to." She reached for her purse and rose abruptly. "I'll be running along. See you around." About to turn away, she paused and looked back at him. Her lips quivered, her hazel eyes held an odd swimming brightness. Then, before Bryan could overcome his bewilderment, she whirled and hurried toward the door. He stared after her with a disturbing sense of alarm. He had always considered Joyce a friend, but now he realized her own feelings went deeper than that. Deep enough so that she seemed fiercely to resent his interest and sympathy where Leeta was concerned. He felt--danger. Joyce, he knew now, had become an enemy. * * * * * He walked slowly through the darkness, a big man whose tweed suit was more rumpled than usual. The park was oddly deserted tonight. No couples strolled along the walks, no figures occupied the benches. And Bryan knew the reason for that. Patrolmen, on emergency duty, guarded all the approaches to the park. People were being turned away. He himself had gained admission only because he was personally acquainted with the captain in charge of the guard detail. The only formality had been a warning to remain alert. An expectant hush lay on the air. Even the warm spring breeze seemed stilled, the rustling of leaves muted. Bryan felt the atmosphere of tension, and his excitement grew. He wondered if Leeta would appear again, if he would be able somehow to attract her notice, speak to her. Leeta.... He recalled the way she had looked when she had stood close to him, with the crystal globe in her hands--lovely, strange, wondering. He recalled the wistfulness that had radiated from her, the urgency. And in his mind seemed to ring an echo of the delicate silver chiming, voice-like, that seemed associated with her. He couldn't deny his longing.