t."

The story flowed on under Thornberry's skillful questioning.

* * * * *

At noon yesterday, a frightened and angry Giles had called Judkins,
had boosted the bribe to thirty thousand and demanded immediate
action.

"What did you tell the prisoners?" Thornberry's voice was as even as
Judkins'.

"I was their friend and their only friend; every one else was their
enemy. I told them they must be quiet and obey all orders until the
last man received his coffee in the mess hall. They were then to throw
their trays at the people around them. I told them where to go for
guns. I told them that then they would forget all that I had said,
that they would know how to take care of their enemies."

"Gentlemen, do you realize what this means, in terms of the
constitutional psychopathic inferior? I refer to Clarens, not Dalton.
Dalton reacted as Judkins directed, including to forget that he had
been told everyone was his enemy. Dalton, we know from his record,
actually disliked to use weapons even as a threat.

"But we can be sure that Clarens has not forgotten."

"Why not?" Mosby demanded.

"Because the instructions he received only intensified what he himself
believed before Judkins worked on him. As soon as he had a chance he
looked for his kind of weapons. How he got her there, we won't know
until we catch him, but note that he killed the little girl in the
equivalent of a cavern.

"And the man in the park, that, too, took place in what was
necessarily an almost secret spot.

"Those orders Judkins gave, we _know_ Clarens is still responding to
them...."

Thornberry hesitated a moment, then completed his thought. "And so we
must intensify our patrols on the darker streets. With this poor boy
believing that every man's hand is turned against him, he is now
looking for some dark place in which to feel safe. He is in essence
retreating to the foetus--"

"Sounds good, but tell me the rest later, Doc."

"General Mosby, you and I want to call our roving patrols," and Scott
headed for the door, Mosby right behind him.

"By the way, Doc," the chief called back over his shoulder, "when
you're done with that guy, just tell one of my men. We've got a
special, reserved, very solitary cell for him."

More slowly, Bennington followed Scott and Mosby.

The area of the hunt had perhaps been narrowed. Their quarry--the
beast with steel knives for talons--would be found in a dark, deserted
pl