e heard none of it. His fingers went numb, the phone
dropped, he was out of his seat and skidding around the desk before it
hit the carpeted floor. He had to wait at the elevator. He thought for
one silly moment of racing to the exit and running down sixty-three
floors, then compromised on stamping his feet and slamming one fist into
the other palm and striding up and down while three other men and two
women also waiting for the elevator stared at him. He thought of calling
the police just as the elevator door opened, and he nearly turned and
left it, but couldn't and leaped in just as the doors were closing. "I'm
Dr. Quink," he shouted at the elevator operator. "This is an emergency.
Take me straight down."

The elevator went straight down. The doors opened on the ground floor
and Victor shot out, leaving behind two nearly mortally sick women and
several acid comments to the effect that he was probably late for a
matinee. "I couldn't take any chances," apologized the elevator
operator, "it might really have _been_ an emergency."

It wasn't raining in New York that day, so he was able to get a cab
immediately. He took it to his parking lot and roared off from there. He
sped through the city traffic, incurring the widespread wrath and
disapproval of the police department. A patrol car caught up with him on
Grand Central Parkway and forced him off the road. He explained who he
was and that a madman was threatening to kill his wife, no, not _his_
wife, the madman's wife, and that he didn't have time to sit here and
talk about it. The police officer told him to follow him, and, siren
blazing, they roared off once again.

It occurred to both of them nearly simultaneously that Victor couldn't
possibly follow the police officer, it had to be the other way around,
and so Victor took the lead, the red siren hanging on behind. But when
Victor left the parkway he saw in his mirror no flashing red light,
somewhere he had lost the police. He touched the brake a second, for the
first time in the past fifteen minutes, then accelerated again and
hurried on. He had not the time to wait.

The door to the Fairfield's home was unlocked and he burst in without
ringing. "Mimi," he cried, then, hearing vague noises from the upstairs
bedroom, he hurried there.

* * * * *

He didn't find Mimi there. Donald Fairfield was alone in the bedroom,
and the bedroom was a mess, and there was a gun in Donald Fairfield