n a
girdle or reaching back to fasten a bra to have the gun in her hand.
It was a suicidal impulse and I gave it up instantly. Other women
might compulsively finish concealing themselves before snatching up
the gun. Not her.

"All right," she said at last.

I faced her. She was wearing coveralls that, if anything, emphasized
the curves of her figure. She had a sort of babushka that covered her
red hair and kept it in place--the kind of thing women workers used to
wear in factories during the war. She had looked lethal with nothing
on but a gun and a hard expression. She looked like a sentence of
execution now.

"Open that door, turn to the right and go upstairs," she told me,
indicating directions with the gun.

I went. It was the longest, most anxious short walk I've ever taken.
She ordered me to open a door on the fourth floor, and we were inside
the room I'd seen from the fire escape. The mesh cage seemed like a
torture chamber to me, the hooded motors designed to shoot an
agonizing current through my emaciating body.

"You're going to do to me what you did to the old man you hired
today?" I probed, hoping for an answer that would really answer.

She flipped on the switch that started the motors and there was a
shrill, menacing whine. The wire mesh of the cage began blurring
oddly, as if vibrating like the tines of a tuning fork.

"You've been an unexpected nuisance, Weldon," she said above the
motors. "I never thought you'd get this far. But as long as you have,
we might as well both benefit by it."

"Benefit?" I repeated. "_Both_ of us?"

She opened the drawer of a work table and pulled out a stack of
envelopes held with a rubber band. She put the stack at the other edge
of the table.

"Would you rather have all cash or bank accounts or both?"

My heart began to beat. _She was where the money came from!_

* * * * *

"You trying to tell me you're a philanthropist?" I demanded.

"Business is philanthropy, in a way," she answered calmly. "You need
money and I need your services. To that extent, we're doing each other
a favor. I think you'll find that the favor I'm going to do for you
is a pretty considerable one. Would you mind picking up the envelopes
on the table?"

I took the stack and stared at the top envelope. "May 15, 1931," I
read aloud, and looked suspiciously at her. "What's this for?"

"I don't think it's something that can be explained. At least it's
nev