itter, seven-year stalemate, until she finally gave up
hope and demanded a divorce.

He threw the clipping away, and pulled out the final bit of paper. It
was a rent receipt for a cold-water apartment on the poorer section of
West End--from the price of eighteen dollars a month, it had to be a
cold-water place. He frowned, considering it. Apartment 12. That might
explain why his own apartment had been unused, though it made little
sense to him. It would probably be watched by now, anyway.

* * * * *

He jerked to his feet at a sound on the window-sill, but it was only a
cat, eyeing the unfinished donut. He threw the food out, and the cat
dived after it. Hawkes waited for the touch of ice along his backbone
to go away. It didn't.

This time, he tried to ignore it. He picked up the paper and began
going through it, looking for something that might give him some
slight clew. But there was nothing there. Only a heading on an inside
page that stirred his curiosity.

_Scientist Seeks Confinement_

He glanced at it, noting that a Professor Meinzer, formerly of City
College, had appeared at Bellevue, asking to be put away in a padded
cell, preferably with a strait-jacket. The Professor had only
explained that he considered himself dangerous to society. No other
reason was found. Professor Meinzer had been doing private work,
believed to relate to his theory that....

The panic was back, thick in Hawkes' throat. He jerked back against
the wall, his heart racing, while he tried to fight it down. There was
no sound from the hall or outside. He forced his eyes back to the
paper.

And the paper was surrounded by a golden haze. It burst into a
momentary flame as the haze flickered out. Hawkes dropped the ashes
from his clammy hands. He hadn't been burned!

_You can't escape. Run. They'll get you!_

He heard the outside door open, as it had opened a hundred times. But
now it could only mean that more were coming. He jerked for the open
window.

Something came sailing through the air to hit the sill. Hawkes
screamed weakly, far down in his throat, before his eyes could
register the fact that it was only the cat again.

Then the cat let out a horrible beginning of a sound, and its poor,
half-starved body seemed to turn inside out, with a churning motion
that Hawkes could barely see. Blood and gore spattered from it,
striking his face and clothes.

He froze, unable to move. Either the