body to
see. A place where you and I will go up in smoke, if you're fool
enough to tell Manschoff about this."

"You're lying."

"I wish to God I was, for both our sakes! But I can prove what I'm
saying. _You_ can prove it, for yourself."

"How?"

"Pretend this meeting never occurred. Pretend that you just spent the
afternoon here, waiting for a girl who never showed up. Then do
exactly what you would do under those circumstances. Go in to see Dr.
Manschoff and ask him where Sue is, tell him you were worried because
she'd promised to meet you and then didn't appear.

"I can tell you right now what he'll tell you. He'll say that Sue has
been transferred to another treatment center, that she knew about it
for several weeks but didn't want to upset you with the news of her
departure. So she decided to just slip away. And Manschoff will tell
you not to be unhappy. It just so happens that he knows of another
nurse who has had her eye on you--a very pretty little brunette named
Myrna. In fact, if you go down to the river tomorrow, you'll find her
waiting for you there."

"What if I refuse?"

Ritchie shrugged. "Why should you refuse? It's all fun and games,
isn't it? Up to now you haven't asked any questions about what was
going on, and it would look very strange if you started at this late
date. I strongly advise you to cooperate. If not, everything is likely
to--quite literally--go up in smoke."

Harry Collins frowned. "All right, suppose I do what you say, and
Manschoff gives me the answers you predict. This still doesn't prove
that he'd be lying or that you're telling me the truth."

"Wouldn't it indicate as much, though?"

"Perhaps. But on the other hand, it could merely mean that you know
Sue _has_ been transferred, and that Dr. Manschoff intends to turn me
over to a substitute. It doesn't necessarily imply anything sinister."

"In other words, you're insisting on a clincher, is that it?"

"Yes."

"All right." Ritchie sighed heavily. "You asked for it." He reached
into the left-hand upper pocket of the gray uniform and brought out a
small, stiff square of glossy paper.

"What's that?" Harry asked. He reached for the paper, but Ritchie drew
his hand back.

"Look at it over my shoulder," he said. "I don't want any
fingerprints. Hell of a risky business just smuggling it out of the
files--no telling how well they check up on this material."

* * * * *

Harry circled beh