ght at present. Even if the
Myrmidon turned out to be a God in disguise, Forrester wouldn't be
excused if he said anything about the card. You had to go by
appearances; that was the principle on which everything rested, and a
very good principle too.

Not that there weren't a few unprincipled young men around who pretended
to be Gods in disguise in order to seduce various local and ingenuous
maidens. But Zeus always found out about them. And ...

Forrester recognized that his thoughts were beginning to veer once more.
Without changing his expression, he said evenly: "You're supposed to
know," and waited.

The Myrmidon studied him for what seemed about three days. At last he
nodded, looked down at the card intently, raised his head and nodded
again. "Okay," he said. "Take Car One."

Forrester moved off. Car One was not the first elevator car. As a matter
of fact, it was in the middle bank, identified only by a small placard.
It took him almost five minutes to find it, and by the time he stepped
toward it clocks were ticking urgently in his head.

It would do him absolutely no good to be late.

But another Myrmidon was standing beside the closed doors of the
elevator car. Forrester hissed in his breath with impatience--none of
which showed on his face--and then caught himself. Certainly Zeus
All-Father knew what he was doing, and if Zeus had thrown these delays
in his path, it was not for him to complain.

The thought was soothing. Nevertheless, Forrester showed his card to the
Myrmidon with an abrupt action very like impatience. This Myrmidon
merely glanced at it in a bored fashion and pushed a button on the wall
behind him. The elevator doors opened, Forrester stepped inside, and the
doors closed.

Forrester was alone in a small bronzed cubicle which began at once to
rise rapidly. Just how rapidly, he was unable to tell. There were no
indicators at all on the elevator, and the opaque doors made it
impossible to see floors flit by. But his ears rang with the speed, and
when the car finally stopped, it did so with a slight jerk that threw
Forrester, stiff and worried, off balance. He almost fell out of the car
as the door opened, and clutched at something for support.

The something was the arm of a Myrmidon. Forrester gaped and looked
around. He was in a plain hallway of polished marble. There was no way
to tell how many stories above the street he was.

The Myrmidon seemed a more friendly sort than his compa