injure others--how many others,
and how badly, you can't tell.

There are times when you've got to take an individual life in your
hands.

And yet, because you can't always be sure--

Gloria's "talents" could kill out of hand, she was sure. But she didn't
use them that way. Instead, she simply projected a new compulsion into
the mind of her subject.

The next time he got drunk and wanted to start a fight, he wanted to do
something else, too.

For instance: walk along the edges of roofs.

The original compulsion had been added to, and turned into a compulsion
toward suicide; that was what it amounted to.

Gloria didn't like doing it, and she was always glad when it wasn't
necessary. But there was a dark side to everything--even, she thought,
helping people.

She told herself grimly that it had to be done.

And then she returned to her work.

* * * * *

Mrs. Wladek pounded on the door of the gypsy's store a few minutes
before four. Her face was white and her lips set in a thin line; she
breathed with difficulty and with every move she made she could feel her
old bones creak.

It was a shame what was being done to an old woman.

But did they care? Did any of them care?

Mrs. Wladek gave a little snort that was half laughter and half
self-pity. She pounded on the door again and dropped her arm, feeling
old and tired and nearly helpless.

But she had to fight on.

There was a limit to what an old woman could be expected to stand. They
would learn, all of them, what--

The door opened.

Marya Proderenska said: "Yes? You are early."

"I am in a hurry. Terrible things have occurred."

The gypsy woman sighed and stepped aside. "Come in, then," she said, and
Mrs. Wladek entered slowly, peering round the front room.

"Come in the back," the gypsy woman said. "I have been preparing to help
you. But more is required."

It was Mrs. Wladek's turn to sigh. She reached into her purse and found
a fifty-cent piece, which she handed over very slowly.

"More is required," the gypsy woman said, looking at the coin in her
hand as if, Mrs. Wladek thought, it was less than a penny. Did not the
woman realize that fifty cents was a great deal of money for a poor old
woman?

No one had any pity any more.

She handed over another fifty cents and the gypsy woman nodded sadly,
pocketed the money and led the way to the back room.

"You will help me now?" Mrs. Wladek said.

"I will tr