"Uh _huh_!" Bowen grunted, satisfied. He handed back the robot. "Now, if you please, Mr. Linger--give us back our couch! Can you?" "Why--why, yes--" Joe stammered. He took the robot and changed Bowen's cannon back into the couch it had been. "Uh _huh_!" Bowen grunted again. He settled into his chair and resumed smoking his pipe, calmly. Joe returned to his seat, frowning perplexedly. Barbara moved back toward the couch--then hesitated, staring at it uncertainly, and moved over toward Joe's chair. Almost without thinking, she perched herself on the arm of his chair. Joe slipped his arm around her hips to steady her, and neither of them seemed to notice their nearness. They sat staring at her father. Bowen stared into space, nodded, and grunted a few times. Finally, he cleared his throat and began speaking. "Mr. Linger, the bills that robot made are perfect. You couldn't spot one of 'em for a counterfeit in a million years! And we've just discovered that not only will the robot make weapons, but anyone can work it--not just you! That puts a pretty serious light on the business. I'm thoroughly convinced, young man, that with that robot of yours, any man could become the ruler of the world!" Joe gasped faintly. "That--that hadn't occurred to me!" he stammered weakly. Bowen smiled at him with warm friendliness. "I didn't think it had," he said quietly. "But I'm afraid we're going to have to face facts. Joe, your life isn't going to be worth a plugged nickel if this ever gets out. Why, the moment you handed me that robot, I could've committed the perfect murder--by _changing you into a statue_!" Joe shook his head. "The robot can't influence animate objects," he protested. "Didn't you make a cat?" Bowen asked sharply. Joe gulped nervously. _Yes, he had!_ And he'd changed the cat back into new shoes-- "You mustn't deny the danger for a minute, Joe," Bowen went on, gravely. "If ever the wrong people hear about that robot and get their hands on it, you're as good as dead! And the rest of the world will shortly be under the killer's thumb--" "Father--" Barbara blurted impulsively. "Father, can't we--help him, somehow?" Bowen raised his brows and grinned at his daughter. "Maybe for your sake, we'd better!" he exclaimed, chuckling. Barbara fidgeted with embarrassment. "I've been wondering about the people who sent the robot to you," Bowen resumed seriously. "But it seems that they weren't interested so much in what the robot might do to our world as they were in getting their experiment done. So this seems to be left entirely in your hands, Joe." He glanced up, his gray eyes boring into Joe's face. "Do you want to make your own decision about it, or do you want us to make a suggestion?" Joe ran his fingers through his hair, nervously. "I'd--I'd appreciate anything you say, Mr. Bowen! Anything!"