The shrill chirping: "What do you mean, potential? The word expresses a
doubt. Here there is none." The entity's chuckle sounded like a baby,
content over a full bottle. "Thirty certain assassins."

"But why must you kill?"

Lorry was sure the tiny shoulders shrugged. "Why? I don't know. I never
thought to wonder. Why must you join with a man and propagate some day?
Why do you feel sorry for what you term an unfortunate? Explain your
instincts and I'll explain mine."

Lorry felt herself rising. Stiffly, she put Baby Newcomb back into his
basket. As she did so, a ripple of shrill, jerky laughter crackled
through the room. Lorry put her hands to her ears. "You know I can't say
anything. You'd keep quiet. They'd call me mad."

"Precisely."

Malicious laughter, like driven sleet, cut into her ears as she fled
from the room.

* * * * *

Peter Larchmont, M.D., was smoking a quick cigarette by an open
fire-escape door on the third floor. He turned as Lorry came down the
corridor, flipped his cigarette down into the alley and grinned. "Women
shouldn't float on rubber heels," he said. "A man should have warning."

Lorry came close. "Kiss me. Kiss me--hard."

Pete kissed her, then held her away. "You're trembling. Anticipation,
pet?" He looked into her face and the grin faded. "Lorry, what is it?"

"Pete--Pete. I'm crazy. I've gone mad. Hold me."

He could have laughed, but he had looked closely into her eyes and he
was a doctor. He didn't laugh. "Tell me. Just stand here. I'll hang onto
you and you tell me."

"The babies--they've gone mad." She clung to him. "Not exactly that.
Something's taken them over. Something terrible. Oh, Pete! Nobody would
believe me."

"I believe the end result," he said, quietly. "That's what I'm for,
angel. When you shake like this I'll always believe. But I'll have to
know more. And I'll hunt for an answer."

"There isn't any answer, Pete. I _know_."

"We'll still look. Tell me more, first."

"There isn't any more." Her eyes widened as she stared into his with the
shock of a new thought. "Oh, Lord! One of them talked to me, but maybe
he--or it--won't talk to you. Then you'll never know for sure! You'll
think I'm ..."

"Stop it. Quit predicting what I'll do. Let's go to the nursery."

They went to the nursery and stayed there for three-quarters of an
hour. They left with the tinny laughter filling their minds--and the
last words of the monstrous