undersea light, just enough
to see by--but no one could look in. A heavy curtain could be drawn if
one wanted to be absolutely secluded. Privacy--_uh_-huh!

He sat down at the driftwood table and leaned back against the coral.
Closing his eyes he made an effort of will. His nerves were already
keyed up to such a tautness that it seemed they must break and it took
only seconds to twist his mind along the paths required.

The noise of the tavern rose from a tiny mumble to a clattering surf,
to a huge and saw-edged wave. Voices dinned in his head, shrill and
deep, hard and soft, a senseless stream of talking, jumbled together
into words, words, words. Somebody dropped a glass and it was like a
bomb going off.

Dalgetty winced, straining his ear against the grotto side. Surely
enough of their speech would come to him, even through all that rock!
The noise level was high but the human mind, if trained in
concentration, is an efficient filter. The outside racket receded from
Dalgetty's awareness and slowly he gathered in the trickle of sound.

First man: "--no matter. What can they do?"

Second man: "Complain to the government. Do you want the FBI on our
trail? I don't."

First man: "Take it easy. They haven't yet done so and it's been a
good week now since--"

Second man: "How do you know they haven't?"

Third man--heavy, authoritative voice. Yes, Dalgetty remembered it now
from TV speeches--it was Bancroft himself: "_I_ know. I've got enough
connections to be sure of that."

Second man: "Okay, so they haven't reported it. But why not?"

Bancroft: "You know why. They don't want the government mixing into
this any more than we do."

Woman: "Well, then, are they just going to sit and take it? No,
they'll find some way to--"

"HELLO, THERE, MISTER!!!"

Dalgetty jumped and whirled around. His heart began to race, until he
felt his ribs tremble and he cursed his own tension.

"WHY, WHAT'S THE MATTER, MISTER? YOU LOOK--"

Effort again, forcing the volume down, grasping the thunderous heart
in fingers of command and dragging it toward rest. He focussed his
eyes on the girl who had entered. It was the rec girl, the one he had
asked for because he had to sit in this booth.

Her voice was speaking on an endurable level now. Another pretty
little bit of fluff. He smiled shakily. "Sit down, sweet. I'm sorry.
My nerves are shot. What'll you have?"

"A daiquiri, please." She smiled and placed herself beside him. He