es wild, searching the receding stream of traffic
for the cab, a picture of the occupant burned indelibly into his mind, a
face he had seen, recognized. The cab was gone, he knew, gone like a
breath of wind. The briefcase was also gone--

* * * * *

He gave the address of the Essex University Hospital to the cabby, and
settled back in the seat, gripping the hand-guard tightly to fight down
the returning pain in his side and leg. His mind was whirling, fighting
in a welter of confusion, trying to find some avenue of approach, some
way to make sense of the mess. The face in the cab recurred again and
again before his eyes, the gaunt, putty-colored cheeks, the sharp
glittering eyes. His acquaintance with Frank Mariel had been brief and
unpleasant, in the past, but that was a face he would never forget. But
how could Mariel have known where he would be, and when? There was
precision in that attack, far too smooth precision ever to have been
left to chance, or even to independent planning. His mind skirted the
obvious a dozen times, and each time rejected it angrily. Finally he
knew he could no longer reject the thought, the only possible answer.
Mariel had known where he would be, and at what time. Therefore, someone
must have told him.

He stiffened in the seat, the pain momentarily forgotten. Only one
person could have told Mariel. Only one person knew where the file was,
and where it would be after he left the restaurant--he felt cold
bitterness creep down his spine. She had known, and sat there making
eyes at him, and telling him how wonderful he was, how she was with him
no matter what happened--and she'd already sold him down the river. He
shook his head angrily, trying to keep his thoughts on a rational plane.
_Why?_ Why had she strung him along, why had she even started to help
him? And why, above all, turn against her own father?

The Hospital driveway crunched under the cab, and he hopped out, wincing
with every step, and walked into a phone booth off the lobby. He gave a
name, and in a moment heard the P.A. system echoing it: "Dr. Prex;
calling Dr. Prex." In a moment he heard a receiver click off, and a
familiar voice said, "Prex speaking."

"Prex, this is Shandor. Got a minute?"

The voice was cordial. "Dozens of them. Where are you?"

"I'll be up in your quarters." Shandor slammed down the receiver and
started for the elevator to the Resident Physicians' wing.

He let him