She shrugged. "So there's a job, if you want to quit this one." "What's this got to do with Peony, if anything?" "We could take her with us." "Not a chance," he said. "Do you suppose a talking neutroid would be any safer there?" She demanded angrily, "Why should they want to destroy her?" Norris sat on the edge of the bed and thought about it. "No particular _individual_ wants to, honey. It's the law." "But _why_?" "Generally, because deviants are unknown quantities. They can be dangerous." "That child--_dangerous_?" "Dangerous to a concept, a vague belief that Man is something special, a closed tribe. And in a practical sense, she's dangerous because she's not a neuter. The Federation insists that all mutants be neuter and infertile, so it can control the mutant population. If mutants started reproducing, that could be a real threat in a world whose economy is so delicately balanced." "Well, you're not going to let them have her, do you hear me?" "I hear you," he grumbled. * * * * * On the following day, he went down to police headquarters to sign a statement concerning the motive in Doctor Georges' murder. As a result, Mrs. Glubbes was put away in the psycho-ward. "It's funny, Norris," said Chief Miler, "what people'll do over a neutroid. Like Mrs. Glubbes thinking that newt was her own. I sure don't envy you your job. It's a wonder you don't get your head blown off. You must have an iron stomach." Norris signed the paper and looked up briefly. "Sure, Chief. Just a matter of adaptation." "Guess so." Miler patted his paunch and yawned. "How you coming on this Delmont business? Picked up any deviants yet?" Norris laid down the pen abruptly. "No! Of course not! What made you think I had?" Miler stopped in the middle of his yawn and stared at Norris curiously. "Touchy, aren't you?" he asked thoughtfully. "When I get that kind of answer from a prisoner, I right away start thinking--" "Save it for your interrogation room," Norris growled. He stalked quickly out of the office while Chief Miler tapped his pencil absently and stared after him. He was angry with himself for his indecision. He had to make a choice and make it soon. He was climbing in his car when a voice called after him from the building. He looked back to see Chief Miler trotting down the steps, his pudgy face glistening in the morning sun. "Hey, Norris! Your missus is on the phone. Says it's urgent." Norris went back grudgingly. A premonition of trouble gripped him. "Phone's right there," the chief said, pointing with a stubby thumb. The receiver lay on the desk, and he could hear it saying, "Hello--hello--" before he picked it up. "Anne? What's the matter?" Her voice was low and strained, trying to be cheerful. "Nothing's the matter, darling. We have a visitor. Come right home, will you? Chief Franklin's here." It knocked the breath out of him. He felt himself going white. He glanced at Chief Miler, calmly sitting nearby.