Shoe dye--your shoes need it, and I couldn't find a shoe store. I did
get a shirt though, and a tie. You'll find a hat in that bag. Size
seven and a quarter?"

He nodded gratefully, and went in to change. His old shirt had caught
most of the cat's blood, and he needed a fresh one. There were a
couple of spots on his trousers, but they'd do. And the sports jacket
matched well enough. He daubed the dye onto his shoes--one of the
combined polish and dye things.

"Cold-cuts all right?" she asked, and he called back a vague answer
that seemed to satisfy her. He was staring at the shoe dye.

It worked fairly well, when he experimented. He daubed it onto his
hair with a wisp of cotton. His hair began to mat down, but he found
that combing it out as he went along removed the worst of the wax and
still left some of the color. It worked better than it should have
done.

He found a bottle of something that smelled of alcohol and belonged in
her cosmetics, and began removing most of the mess. By being careful,
he got the wax and most of the dye smell off, while leaving his hair
darker.

"Better wash up," she called.

There was a razor among the things she had bought. He daubed some of
the dye on his upper lip, where the stubble of a mustache was showing.
It was easier there, if it didn't wash off in soap and water.

Some of it did, but when he finished shaving, he felt better. It
wouldn't pass close inspection, but he now seemed to have darker hair,
and the dye had exaggerated the little beginning of a mustache enough
to make some change in his appearance.

He waited for her to comment, but she said nothing. He waited for her
questions about what he was going to do, and her explanations that of
course he couldn't stay there. She merely went on talking idly, while
they ate. It didn't fit.

Finally he stood up and began taking down the rope that was strung up
over one end of the room, to use as a clothes line, he supposed. She
looked up at that. "What--"

"You can fight, if you want to," he told her. "Or you can save
yourself the headache of being knocked out. Take your choice. People
don't pay much attention to screams in a place like this. And I'm not
going to harm you, if you'll take it easily."

"You mean it!" Her eyes were huge in her face, and there was a touch
of fright now. She gulped visibly, and then seemed to go limp. "All
right, Will. In the bedroom?"

He nodded, and she went ahead of him. She didn't stru