but he had to give in--on the surface anyway.

"Okay, let's forget the whole thing," he said.

"Oh, Al dear, I knew you'd understand! I've got to go back now and try
the phone again. I got a busy signal."

Stern followed her, still rankling at the way Curtis had forced Beryl to
live while he spent so generously on his own expensive interests.
Shortly after their marriage, he had built a home for Beryl and himself
in an exclusive suburb, on a hilly bit of land with a deep ravine at the
back. But it was small and Beryl had not even been allowed maids except
when they entertained, which was seldom. Soon he would change all that,
Stern told himself. They had not dared to while Clyde was away.

In the modern living room, Curtis sprawled in his easy chair as though
he hadn't moved since they had placed him there. But his air of
abstraction seemed to have increased. Before him sat the beast, looking,
Stern thought, more like a dog than ever. Its head wasn't cocked to one
side, but that, less than its alien appearance, was the one thing to
spoil the illusion.

Tires screeched in the driveway while Beryl was still at the telephone.
Stern went to the front door, closed it and put the chain bolt in
place. The back door would still be locked and they would hardly try to
force the screen windows.

Heavy steps pounded up the front walk. "Did Dr. Curtis really get back?"
The first man shot out. The one who followed had a camera.

"Dr. Curtis has returned," Stern spoke through the opening of the front
door which the chain permitted, "but his physical condition won't permit
questioning, at least until his doctor has seen him."

"Did he really bring back a Martian? We want to see the Martian anyway."

"We can't have Dr. Curtis disturbed in any way until after his physician
has examined him," Stern said bluntly.

"Is he in there?"

"We'll give you a report when we're ready."

* * * * *

A second car pulled up to the house as Stern shut the front door, and
went to check the rear one. When he came back, flashes from the window
showed the cameraman was trying to take pictures through the glass.
Stern drew the shades.

"Well, poor Schaughtowl, so you had to come with me," Curtis was saying
to the monster.

The beast wiggled again as it had on the steps of the machine. A tail to
wag wasn't really necessary, Stern decided, when there was so much body
to wiggle.

Schaughtowl, as Curtis addressed