ard to find because there
will be only traces of a plan, all put in so that it looks like natural,
logical reasoning."

Catherine looked doubtful. "When would they have the chance?" she asked.

"Thorndyke. In the hospital."

Catherine nodded and I relaxed. At the beginning I was very reluctant. I
didn't mind Catherine digging into the dark and dusty corners of my
mind, but Marian Harrison bothered me.

"Think of the accident, Steve," she said.

Then I managed to lull my reluctant mind by remembering that she was
trying to help me. I relaxed mentally and physically and regressed back
to the day of the accident. I found it hard even then to go through the
love-play and sweet seriousness that went on between Catherine and me,
knowing that Marian Harrison was a sort of mental spectator. But I
fought down my reticence and went on with it.

I practically re-lived the accident. It was easier now that I'd found
Catherine again. It was like a cleansing bath. I began to enjoy it. So I
went on with my life and adventures right up to the present. Having come
to the end, I stopped.

Marian looked at Catherine. "Did you get it?"

Silence. More silence. Then, "It seems dim. Almost incredulous--that it
could be--" with a trail-off into thought again.

Phillip snorted. "Make with the chin-music, you two. The rest of us
aren't telepaths, you know."

"Sorry," said Marian. "It's sort of complicated and hard to figure, you
know. What seems to be the case is sort of like this," she went on in an
uncertain tone, "We can't find any direct evidence of anything like
hypnotic suggestion. The urge to follow what you call the Highways in
Hiding is rather high for a mere bump of curiosity, but nothing
definite. I think you were probably urged very gently. Catherine
objects, saying that it would take a brilliant psycho-telepath to do a
job delicate enough to produce the urge without showing the traces of
the operation."

"Someone of scholar grade in both psychology and telepathy," said
Catherine.

I thought it over for a moment. "It seems to me that whoever did it--if
it was done--was well aware that a good part of this urge would be
generated by Catherine's total and unexplicable disappearance. You'd
have saved yourselves a lot of trouble--and saved me a lot of heartache
if you'd let me know something. God! Haven't you any feelings?"

Catherine looked at me from hurt eyes. "Steve," she said quietly, "A
billion girls have sworn that