e thought
about trying it.

"Maybe I'll have time for a treatment," he said.

The barber ran a hand through the boy's light-brown hair. "You don't
need one. Your hair is healthy, and not especially dry. I wouldn't
give you a treatment you don't need."

"Have it your way," Rick said. The barber was either too lazy or too
honest for his own good. In all probability the machine would do
nothing Rick couldn't do for himself with his own two hands.

There was a good view of the elevators through the barbershop windows.
Rick watched people coming and going, and speculated for his own
amusement on who they might be, and their business in the building.
Speculation was idle, of course. Take Tom Dodd. No one, without inside
knowledge, would suspect that he was a federal agent engaged in
guarding a hush-hush project on the fourth floor. Or Dr. Marks. Who
would suspect that he carried a vital secret? Or, more accurately,
that he was working on one?

As the barber was brushing Rick off, the boy saw his father step out
of the elevator, stop, and look around. He saw the elevator operator
step from the car, look into the barbershop, and wink. Rick almost
winked back, then he realized that the operator was winking at the
barber and not at him.

The scientist saw Rick at almost the same moment and walked into the
barbershop. "Julius will be busy for another half hour," he said. "I
think I'll follow your example, Rick." He climbed into the chair Rick
had just vacated.

Scotty was through, too. The boys took seats and busied themselves
reading magazines.

Hartson Brant's hair had needed only trimming, not complete cutting,
so he was finished in a short time. The barber shook out his cloth,
then put it back on for the finishing touches. Rick glanced up as the
barber spoke.

"Your hair's pretty dry, sir, and I have an excellent treatment here.
I'd like to give you one. It would make your hair look better, and
make it easier to handle."

Tension swept through Rick as though someone had turned on an electric
current. The tension had no focus. It was just that something deep
within him had reacted. He stood up and dropped his magazine.

"Dad," he said hastily, "I just saw Julius go through the lobby."

"Where did he go?" Hartson Brant demanded. "I didn't see him."

"I think he went through the front door," Rick said. "Better hurry.
I'll try to catch him."

Outside the barbershop he stopped, to let Scotty catch up with him.
"