"Ah, the original," Billig observed, looking up from the figurine, which he deftly pocketed. "Darling," he said, walking toward Mitzie, "would you care to be featured in coast-to-coast living ads, or sit for a line of ultra deluxe dress-display robots; would you like to be a handie star, ambassadress to Brazil, or become my girl Friday and be in on everything interesting that goes on in the world; would you take $10,000,000? Just tell us what you've done with the green cat." Mitzie answered the five-second barrage with a shrug of her upper lip. "Darling, I'm serious," Billig assured her. "This is a lifetime opportunity and you're a very nice girl." And he made as if to caress her shoulder affectionately, but instead whipped around to catch Phil's reaction. Jack Jones ran into the room and whisked to a stop. He glanced at Phil as if he didn't know him and then saluted Billig sardonically. "What are you standing around for?" Billig demanded. "Get to work. Hayes, I want those three hep-jerks in here." Phil tried to squirm away from Harris' seemingly casual grip. And then Jack's fingers were digging at nerves and pain was not a steel ball but a fiery plant's red hot roots and million rootlets finding an instant way through every crevice between the cells of his body. He heard himself squealing, "Romadka! Romadka!" The pain lessened and he babbled swiftly, "Dr. Romadka stole the cat. I saw him coming out of the room where the cage is, carrying his black bag. The cat must have been inside." "Who's this Romadka?" Billig whipped at him. "An analyst," Phil gasped weakly. He nodded at Jack Jones. "He can tell you about him." "I never heard of the man," Jack asserted instantly. "You did," Phil mumbled desperately. "You saw how he was after me tonight. You must have guessed he was after the green cat." Jack shook his head curtly. "He's making it up," he assured Billig. Across the room Brimstine put down a phone and called to Billig, "Benson says Greeley's acting cool as they come, still confident the raid will start when he said." "Well, don't freeze!" Billig rapped exasperatedly at Jack. "Get back to work on him." As the small terrible hands approached, Phil looked imploringly at Mitzie. "Dr. Anton Romadka is my father," she said coldly, "reputed to be a great psychoanalyst. This hysteric you're wasting time on is one of his patients." "Darling, why didn't you say so before?" Billig asked her joyfully. "Dora, let go of her wrists at once!" The violet blonde complied with a cynical hop of her slim eyebrows.