on
the corner, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened his
eyes a man in a blue suit was standing beside him.

"I would like you to answer some questions for me," the man said.

Blackwell gulped and blinked. "Sorry, mister, I'm kind of a stranger
here myself."

"That man you entered this building with--what business did you have
with him?"

It should have occurred to Charles Blackwell that this was none of the
stranger's business, but it didn't. That thought came later but, at the
moment, as he looked into the man's oddly empty eyes, his question
seemed entirely justified.

"Well, you see, my brother Jack bothers us, kind of. He gets
manic-depressive spells."

"What did that have to do with Brent Taber?"

"We thought maybe my brother broke his leg and then dropped dead or--or
something. Anyhow, I got this here court order--they gave it to me--and
I showed it to Taber--"

"Who are _they_?"

Blackwell felt strangely excited. He felt as though this man were a
friend, although he didn't know quite why.

"Well, you see I've been around a long time. I run errands and things
for Senator Crane. I'm confidential to him, you understand, because I
never talk. I always keep my mouth shut. So he trusts me and he gave me
this here court order--"

"Who is Senator Crane?"

"You don't know Senator Crane? You new in this country maybe?"

"He is a government official?"

"He's elected to office. He's a United States Senator. Anyhow, Brent
Taber showed me this here guy all cut up and I said it wasn't Jack
and--well, that was that."

"What room did Brent Taber take you to?"

"The damn place smelled like a skunk factory."

"What room number?"

"Ten twenty-six--I think. Yeah, ten twenty-six it was, and I'm telling
you, if you go in there, for Christ sake wear a gas mask. I damn near--"

But Charles Blackwell was talking to himself. The man had turned away
abruptly and was now disappearing around the corner.

"I wonder what the hell he wanted?" Blackwell asked plaintively. Then he
hailed a cab and went to report to Senator Crane.

* * * * *

The tenth android stood with his back to the window in Les King's room
in Manhattan and said, "There is something I want you to do. If you are
very careful, you will succeed. If you succeed, there is a great deal of
money in it for you."

The fear that grew in Les King when they were apart, the uneasy feeling
that maybe money was