ician nostrils flaring. "Well,
don't do me any favors."

"From now on, I wouldn't dream of it."

As he pulled on his jacket, Rhoda sat down on the sofa and lit a
cigarette. "I'm convinced that if you'd gone along with Les King you
would have been on the right road. King wasn't frightened off by a man
who said he represented the government. He saw a chance to make some
money and is probably going ahead with it right now."

"I don't give a damn what Les King is doing!"

"Of course not. But there's another little thing you overlooked. Don't
you suppose this Brent Taber will toss that murder right back into your
lap if it suits his purpose? The body was in your room. You're probably
the chief suspect. So you sit back and let Brent Taber play whatever
game he's got in mind. And if it goes wrong, Frank Corson gets picked up
for murder."

"It can't possibly happen that way."

"Why not? Who is Brent Taber, really?"

"I told you--a government man."

"What government? Where can you get in touch with him?"

"I don't know. He gave me a phone number in case I ever saw a certain
man again."

"What man?"

"Rhoda! They aren't men at all. They're androids!"

Rhoda froze and stared at him in consternation. "You actually _believe_
that fairy tale? Frank, I just don't understand you."

"I told you about it before."

"But for the life of me I didn't think you took it seriously."

"I just didn't care. I'd had it. I wanted out."

"But you're involved in it, up to your neck, and if you had any guts
you'd face Taber and make him tell you _all_ the facts--and what's
behind them."

"I have no intention of calling him."

"I guess that's the rock we split on then," Rhoda said coldly. She
couldn't understand herself, even while she knew, deep down, that she
wanted more information for _him_--John Dennis. Any other reason or
excuse she used was a sham, a self-delusion.

If she expected a protest, she didn't get it. Rhoda took a long, calm
drag on her cigarette. She ground it into the ash tray. She raised her
eyes and looked levelly at Frank.

"Very well," he said, finally, "It was nice knowing you."

"Shut the door quietly on the way out," she retorted.

He stared at her, his face revealing nothing. He turned, went to the
door, and opened it. He looked back. She had not moved. He left without
a word.

Rhoda Kane lit another cigarette. She stared out across the East River
at the expensive view that went with her high-ren