atural children
dying off in one way or another. The changeling inherits, and the
process is repeated, step by step. Can you say it's impossible? Do you
_know_ it's impossible?"

"I wouldn't say impossible, Jim. But I _would_ say that your thesis has
a remarkably low index of probability. Why don't others suspect, besides
you?"

Jim spread his hands hopelessly. "I don't know. Maybe they do. Maybe
these creatures--if they do exist--have some means of protection we
don't know about."

"You need more than maybes, Jim. What about Joanna Simmons' mother?
According to your theories she should have been well off. Was she?"

"No, she wasn't," Jim admitted reluctantly. "She came here and took a
job with my outfit. Said she was divorced, and had lived in New York.
Then she quit to take a position in California, and we agreed to board
Joanna until she got settled. Warrenburg was the town. She was killed
there quite horribly, in a terrible auto accident."

"Have you any reason for suspecting skulduggery? Honestly, Jim? Or for
labelling her one of your human--er--cuckoos?"

"Only my hunch. We had a newspaper clipping, and a letter from the
coroner. We even sent the money for her funeral. But those things could
be faked, Bob."

"Give me some evidence that they _were_ faked, and I'll be happy to
reinspect your views." Holland levered his avoirdupois out of his chair.
"In the meantime, relax. Take a trip if you can. Try not to worry."

Jim grinned humorlessly. "Mustn't let myself get excited, eh? Okay, Bob.
But if I get hold of any evidence that I think you might accept, I'll be
back. The last laugh and all that. Pending developments you take it
easy, too. Don't let yourself get overworked. Stay out of the sun. So
long now."

"So long, Jim."

* * * * *

It was cool in the Warrenburg city hall, though outside the streets were
sizzling.

"Sorry, Mr. Blair," said the stout, motherly woman with the horn-rimmed
glasses. "We've no record of a Helen Simmons. Nothing whatever." She
closed the file with resolute finality.

Jim stared at her. "Are you sure? There must be something. Mightn't
there be a special file for accident cases? She was here in Warrenburg.
She died here."

The woman thinned her lips, shook her head. "If we had any information,
it'd be right where I looked. There isn't a thing. Have you tried her
last address? Maybe they could tell you something. We can't."

"I'll try that