He forced himself to steal a glance at her, then let out a sigh of relief. Her two legs were once more just like any other girl's. Illusion, he decided, was at times the Bread of Life. "And now," he said, "you can answer those questions of mine." But just then there was more rapping at the door. "This time girl friend," Dytie told him optimistically. But Phil was taking no more chances. He switched on the one-way peephole first, and looked straight into the face of Dave Greeley. When Phil whispered "Federal Bureau of Loyalty," to Dytie, she jumped up. During his long narrative she had asked him several questions about that organization, he had answered them in detail, and she had apparently formed some very definite conclusions. "We got beat it, Phil. No time question-answer now." And she lightly sprang to the window sill and walked across the ladder. It wasn't as long as the beam at the Akeleys', but it was ten times as high and Phil wasn't drunk. If he hadn't crossed the beam at the Akeley's and gone down the service chute at the Romadkas', he would never have dared it. His heart was hammering as he let himself down into Dytie's room. He turned around with some vague idea of removing the ladder. He heard a crash in his room. Dytie grabbed him. "No time now," she said. And she urged him out of her room into the corridor. Seconds later they were entering the elevator on her side of the building. "Hey, that's the up button," he warned as she punched it. "I know, Phil," she said reassuringly. Emerging on the roof, Phil felt for a moment a big sense of freedom. The sodium mirror had not quite set, and everything around was bright although the lower part of the sky was dark and many stars showed in it. Then he saw the half dozen copters swinging in low toward them like june bugs. Dytie was hustling him along, but only toward an empty corner of the roof. He resented her pointless display of energy. A mighty voice from the sky commanded them to stop. Dytie halted almost at the edge of the roof, felt around in the air, climbed a couple of feet up into it and felt around again. There was the sound of a copter scraping, bouncing and grounding behind them. Dytie opened in the air a small doorway that was black as ink, and climbed inside. She turned around, her face a pale mask in an inky rectangle, urged, "Come on, Phil," and stretched a white arm out of the rectangle down toward him. Phil stared at this weird air-framed portrait. Beneath it he could clearly see the sheer walls of the building opposite and the dizzying ribbon of street fifty floors below. Behind him men shouted and there was another shattering command from the sky.