ms were
being held.

"Cannot our best researchers find a cure for this addiction?" he asked
in his husky voice. "Cannot our best law-enforcement agencies find the
real perpetrators of these crimes? The perpetrators are the fiends who
import dope and create addicts to peddle it for them. These who are
confined are the victims. If no way can be found to cure them, they
must be confined again and again and again, for that addiction will
force them to ever-increasing crime to satisfy it.

"If no way can be found to cure them, these are potential slaves for
life--"

As he ended the station break came, and the camera shifted to the
Witches, dancing on stage, crying their chant.

"Witches of the world, unite to make it clean, clean, clean, Witch
clean--NOW!

"Which soap or detergent, Witch cleanser upsurgent--"

The announcer's voice, when it came in over the muted jingle
"explained" the miracle of the slum-clearance again--a miracle of
American technology. Then he outlined the next "miracle" the Witch
Corporation would promote. This, he said, would be a miracle of
American Medical know-how. Witch would pay for the expensive operation
needed to make a little girl walk again after a crippling disease
several years before. Bone would be grafted, new muscles would be
grafted, American medical know-how in its full extent would be put at
her service.

Keep healthy by keeping clean with Witch, the announcer suggested.
Witch would pay for the expensive operation to undo the effects of one
disease. Meanwhile, Witch's customers could use the preventive
medicine of cleanliness to help them in their fight against disease,
while the researchers of American medicine "seek to find you real
protection."

* * * * *

It was 10:30 the next morning when the doorbell rang.

A big man was standing outside in a topcoat, hat in hand. Randolph
stood in the door, waiting.

The man silently held out a badge, and Randolph moved aside, gesturing
him in.

"I didn't look at your badge close enough," Randolph said as he closed
the door behind his visitor. "Who are you?"

"Narcotics squad," the man said briefly. "I was on the raid last
night."

"Oh? The one Bill Howard was talking about in his newscast?"

"Yes. That one. I don't figure there's any connection, and my boss
just laughed when I suggested there was a connection."

"Connection?"

"You see, I took a break from questioning those boys we pulled