by the time miss green indicated to him that she wanted the light turned out again, he had finished his second drink and was feeling rather benevolent. she had used up all her sand, and about a square foot of the table's surface was covered now with a confusingly intricate maze of lines, into which she had placed white pebbles here and there. some of the lines, mel noticed, blended into each other, while others stopped abruptly or curved back on themselves. as a decorative scheme, it hardly seemed worthwhile.

"miss green," he told her thoughtfully, "i hope it makes sense to you. it doesn't to me."

she piped imperiously, pointing: the light! mel had a moment of annoyance at the way she was ordering him around in his own apartment.

"well," he said, "i'll humor you this time."

for a moment after he had pulled the switch, he stood beside the table to let his eyes adjust to the dark. however, they weren't adjusting properly—a patch of unquiet phosphorescent glimmering floated disturbingly within his field of vision, and as the seconds passed, it seemed to be growing stronger.

suddenly, mel swore in amazement and bent down to examine the table.

"now what have you done—?" he began.

miss green fluted soothingly at him from the dark and fluttered up to his shoulder. he felt a cool touch against his ear and cheek, and a burst of oddly pleasant tinglings ran over his scalp.

"stop that!" he said, startled.

miss green fluted again, urgently. she was trying to tell him something now, and suddenly he thought he understood.

"all right," he said. "i'll look at it. that's what you want me to do, isn't it?"

miss green flew down to the table again, which indicated agreement. mel groped himself back into the chair and leaned forward to study the curiously glowing design she had created of sand and pebbles.

he discovered immediately that any attempt to see it clearly merely strained his vision. details turned into vaguely distorted, luminous flickerings when he stared at them, and the whole pale, spidery pattern made no more sense than it had with the light on. she must have some purpose in mind with it, but mel couldn't imagine what.

meanwhile, miss green was making minor adjustments in his position which mel accepted without argument, since she seemed to know what she was doing. small tugs and pushes told him she wanted his hands placed on the table to either side of the design. mel put them there. his head was to be tilted forward just so. he obliged her again. then she was back on the table, and the top two-thirds of the pattern vanished suddenly behind a blur.

after a moment, he realized she had opened her wings and blotted that part from his sight.

in the darkness, he fastened his puzzled gaze on the remaining section: a quivering, thinly drawn pattern of blue-white light that faded periodically almost to the limits of visibility and slowly grew up again to what was, by comparison, real brilliance. his head was aching slightly. the pattern seemed to tilt sideways and move upward, as if it were creeping in a slow circle about some pivot-point. presently, it turned down again to complete the circle and start on another round. by that time, the motion seemed normal.

when a tiny shape of light suddenly ran across the design and vanished again as it reached the other side, mel was only moderately surprised. the figure had reminded him immediately of miss green. after a while, it crossed his field of vision in another direction, and then there were two more....

he seemed to be swimming forward, through the pattern, into an area of similar tiny figures like living silhouettes of light, and of entrancingly delicate architectural designs. it was like a marionette setting of incredible craftsmanship, not quite real in the everyday sense, but as convincing as a motion picture which was spreading out, second by second, and beginning to flow about him—

"hey!" mel sat up with a start. "you're trying to hypnotize me!"

miss green piped pleadingly. clearly, she had only been trying to show him something. and wasn't it beautiful? didn't he want to see more?

mel hesitated. he was suspicious now, but he was also curious. after all, what could she do to him with her tricks?

besides, he admitted to himself, the picture had vanished as soon as he shifted his eyes, and it was beautiful, like moving about through a living illustration of a book of fairy tales.

he yielded. "all right, i do want to see more."

this time, the picture grew up out of the design within seconds. only it wasn't the same picture. it was as if he had turned around and was looking in another direction, a darker one.

there were fewer of the little light-shapes; instead, he discovered in the distance a line of yellow dots that moved jerkily but steadily, like glowing corks bobbing on dark water. he watched them for a moment without recognition; then he realized with a thrill of pleasure that he was getting another view of the luminous globes he had seen before—this time an other-dimensional view, so to speak.

suddenly, one of them was right before him! not a dot or a yellow circle, but a three-foot ball of fire that rushed toward him through the blackness with hissing, sputtering sounds!

mel surged up out of the chair with a yelp of fright, and the fireball vanished.

as he groped about for the light, miss green was piping furiously at him from the table.

then the light came on.

she was in a rage. dancing about on the table, beating the air with her wings, she waved her arms over her head and shook her tiny fists at him. mel backed off warily.

"take it easy!" he warned. he could reach the flyswatter in the kitchenette with a jump if she started shooting off miniature electric bolts again.

she might have had the same idea, because she calmed down suddenly, shook her wings together and closed them with a snap. it was like a cat smoothing down its bristling back fur. there was a whistling query from the princess now, followed by an excited elfin conversation.

mel poured himself a drink with a hand that shook slightly, and pretended to ignore the disturbance of his guests, while he tried to figure out what had happened.

supposing, he thought a trifle guiltily, settling down on the couch at a safe distance from the table—supposing they simply had to have his help at this point. the manner in which one of the rescue globes suddenly had seemed to shift close to him suggested it. was he justified in refusing to go on with it? in the directionless dark through which the globes were driving, they might have been reacting to his concentrated awareness of them as if it were a radio signal from the human dimensions. and it would explain miss green's rage at the sudden interruption of the contact.

but another thought came to him then, and his guilty feelings vanished in a surge of alarmed indignation.

well, and just supposing, he thought, that he hadn't broken the contact. and that a three-foot sputtering fireball materialized right inside his living room!

he caught sight of miss green eying him speculatively and rather slyly from the table. she seemed composed enough now; there was even the faintest of smiles on that tiny face. the smile seemed to confirm his suspicions.

mel downed his drink and stood up.

"miss green," he told her evenly, choosing his words with care, "i'm sorry to disappoint you, but i don't intend to be the subject of any more of your experiments. at least not until i've had time to think about it."

her head nodded slightly, as if she were acknowledging his decision. but the smile remained; in fact, miss green had begun to look rather smug. mel studied her uneasily. she might be planning to put something else over on him, but he knew how to stop that!

before he turned out the light and went to bed, mel methodically and somewhat grimly swallowed four more shots of brandy. with that much inside him, it wouldn't matter what miss green tried, because he wouldn't be able to react to her suggestions till he woke up again in the morning.

actually it was noon before he awoke—and he might have gone on sleeping then if somebody hadn't been banging on his apartment door.

"wake up, mel!" he heard maria de guesgne shouting hoarsely. "i can hear you snoring in there!"

he sat up a little groggily and looked at the clock. his guests weren't in sight.

"you awake, mel?" she demanded.

"wait a minute!" he yelled back. "just woke up and i'm not decent."

when he opened the door, she had vanished. he was about to close it quietly and gratefully again, when she called down the stairway. "that you, mel? come on up! i want to show you something."

he locked the door behind him and went upstairs. maria received him beamingly in her living room. she was on one of her rare creative painting sprees, and this spree, to judge by the spattered appearance of the room and the artist, was more riotous than usual. a half dozen fair-sized canvases were propped on newspapers against the wall to dry. they were turned around, to increase the shock effect on mel when he would get his first look at them.

"ever see a salamander?" maria inquired with anticipation, spreading a few more papers on the table.

mel admitted he hadn't. he wished she'd given him time to have coffee first. his comments at these private showings were usually regarded as inadequate anyway.

"well," maria invited triumphantly, selecting one of the canvases and setting it abruptly up on the table before him, "take a look at one!"

mel gasped and jerked back. "holy judas!" he said in a weak voice.

"pretty good, eh?" for once, maria appeared satisfied with his reaction. she held it away from her and regarded it. "one of my best!" she cried judiciously.

about three times life-size, it was a quite recognizable portrait of miss green.

it didn't occur to maria to offer mel coffee but he got a cigarette from her. fortunately, he wasn't called upon to make any more comments; she chattered away while she showed him the rest of the series. mel looked and listened, still rather shaken. presently he began to ask questions.

a salamander, he learned, was a fire elemental. maria glanced at her fireplace as she explained this, and mel noticed she seemed to have had a fire burning there overnight, which wasn't too unusual for her even in the middle of summer. listening to the bang-haired, bright-eyed oddball rattling off metaphysical details about salamanders, he became aware of a sort of dread growing up in him. for miss green was pictured, wings and arms spread, against and within furling veils of yellow-white flame...

"drawn from life?" he inquired, grinning to make it a joke. he pointed at the picture.

without looking directly at her, he saw maria start at the question. she stared at him intensely for a moment, and after that she became more reticent.

it didn't matter because it was all on the canvases. she had seen as much as he had and more, and put it down with shocking realism. seen through somebody else's eyes, miss green's world was still beautiful; but now it was also frightening. and there was what maria had said about salamanders.

"maria," he said, "what actually happened last night?"

she looked at him sullenly. "i don't know what you're talking about, mel."

"i imagine," he suggested casually, "you were just sitting there in front of the fire. and then—"

"gosh, mel, she was beautiful! it's all so beautiful, you know ..." she recovered quickly. "i fell asleep and i had a dream, that's all. why? what makes you ask?"

she was beginning to look rather wild-eyed, but he had to find out. "i was just wondering," he said, "whether they'd left."

"why should they leave—look, you oaf! i called you in to give you the privilege of looking at my paintings. now get out. i've got to make a phone call."

he stopped at the door, struck by a sudden suspicion. "you're not going to try to sell them, are you?"

"try to sell them!" she laughed hoarsely. "there are circles, mel armstrong, in which a de guesgne original is understood, shall we say? circles not exactly open to the common herd ... this series," she concluded, rather prosaically, "will get me two thousand bucks as soon as i let one or two of the right people have a look at them!"

brewing himself a pot of coffee at last, mel decided that part of it, if true, wasn't any of his business. he had always assumed maria was living on a monthly check she got from an unidentified source in chicago, but her occasional creations might have a well-heeled following, at that. as for the way miss green had got in to sit for her portrait—the upstairs screens weren't in any better shape than the downstairs ones. the fiery background, of course, might have been only in maria's mind.

there was a scratching on top of the cupboard and whispery voices. mel ignored the slight chill that drifted down his spine. up to that moment, he'd been hoping secretly that maria had provided a beacon for the rescue team to home in on while he slept, and that his guests had been picked up and taken home.

but miss green was peering down at him over the edge of the cupboard.

"hi, salamander!" he greeted her politely. "had a busy night? too bad it didn't work."

her head withdrew. in the living room mel stopped to look at the design of sand and pebbles, which was still on the table. touching one of the threadlike lines, he discovered it was as hard and slick as lacquer. otherwise the pattern seemed unremarkable in daylight, but mel dropped a cloth across it to keep it out of sight.

miss green fluttered past him to the sill of the bedroom window. he watched her standing on tiptoe against the screen, apparently peering about at the sky. after a while, it began to seem ridiculous to let himself become obsessed by superstitious fears about this tiny and beautiful, almost jewellike creature. whatever abilities she might have, she and the princess were only trying to get home—and, having seen their home, he couldn't blame them for that.

he had a return of the fairy-tale nostalgia his glimpse of those eerily beautiful places had aroused in him the night before, a pleasantly yearning sensation like an awareness of elfin horns blowing far away to send faint, exciting echoes swirling about the commonplace sky of sweetwater bay. the feeling might have been resurrected from his childhood, but it was a strong and effective one.

he recalled how bored he'd been with everything before they appeared ...

he walked softly through the bedroom and stopped behind miss green. she was making an elaborate pretense of not having noticed his approach, but the pointed ears that could follow the passage of a moth in the dark were tilted stiffly backward. mel actually was opening his mouth to say, "miss green, i'll help you if i can," when it struck him sharply, like a brand-new thought, that it was an extremely rash promise to make, considering everything that had happened so far.

he wondered how the odd impulse ever had come to him.

in sudden suspicion, he began to trace the last few minutes through again. he had started with a firm decision not to let his guests involve him in their plans any more than was healthy for him, if at all—and the decision had been transformed, step by step, and mental twist by mental twist, into a foolish willingness to have them make use of him exactly as they pleased!

miss green, still maliciously pretending to watch the sky, let him think it all out until it became quite clear what she had done and how she had done it. and then, as mel spluttered angrily at this latest interference with his freedom of thought and action, she turned around and laughed at him.

in a way, it cleared the air. the pressure was off. maria had proved a much more pliable subject than mel; the rescuers had their bearings and would arrive presently. meanwhile, everybody could relax.

mel couldn't help feeling relieved as he grew sure of that. at the same time, now that the departure was settled, he became aware of a certain amount of belated regret. miss green didn't seem to know the exact hour; she was simply watching for them well ahead of their arrival.

where would they show up? she waved her arms around in an appealingly helpless gesture at the court outside and the sky. here, there—somewhere in the area.

it would be a fire globe. at his question, she pointed at the opposite wall of the court where a picture of one formed itself obligingly, slid along the wall a few feet, and vanished. mel was beginning to enjoy all this easy last-minute communication, when he heard maria come downstairs and open the door to the other court. there was conversation, and several sets of footsteps went up to her apartment and down again.

cautioning miss green, he took a look around the shutters of the living room window. a small panel truck stood in the court; maria was supervising the careful transfer of her paintings into its interior. apparently she didn't even intend to let them dry before offering them for sale!

the truck drove off with maria inside with her paintings, and mel discovered miss green doing a little spying of her own from the upper edge of the shutters. good friends now, they smiled at each other and resumed their guard at the bedroom window.

the princess joined them around five in the afternoon. whether she had been injured in the accident or weakened by the birth of her babies, mel couldn't tell, but miss green carried her friend down from the cupboard without visible effort, and then went back for a globular basket of tightly woven tiny twigs, which contained the twins.

it was a masterfully designed little structure with a single opening about the thickness of a pencil, and heavily lined. mel had a notion to ask for it as a souvenir, but decided against it. he lifted it carefully to his ear, to listen to an almost inaudible squeaking inside, and his expression seemed to cause miss green considerable silent amusement.

all in all, it was much like waiting patiently in pleasant company for the arrival of an overdue train. then, around seven o'clock, when the room was already dark, the telephone rang abruptly and returned mel with a start to the world of human beings.

he lifted the receiver.

"hello, oaf!" said maria de guesgne in what seemed for the moment to be an enormous, booming voice.

mel inquired agreeably whether she'd succeeded in selling her paintings. it was the first thing that occurred to him.

"certainly i sold them!" maria said. he could tell by now that she was thoroughly plastered again. "got a message to give you," she added.

"from whom?"

"maybe from me, ha-ha!" said maria. she paused a moment, seemed to be muttering something to herself, and resumed suddenly, "oaf, are you listening?"

mel said bluntly that he was. if he hung up on her, she would probably ring back.

"all right," maria said clearly. "this is the message: 'the fiery ones do not tolerate the endangering of their secrets.' warning, see? goo'-bye."

she hung up before he could say anything.

hers had been a chilling sort of intrusion. mel stood a while in the darkening room, trying to gather up the mood maria had shattered, and discovering he couldn't quite do it. he realized that all along, like a minor theme, there had been a trace of fear underlying everything he did, ever since he had first looked into that bird box and glimpsed something impossible inside it. he had been covering the fear up; even now he didn't want to admit it, but it was there.

he could quite simply, of course, walk out of the room and out of the apartment, and stay away for a week. he didn't even ever have to come back. and, strictly speaking, this was the sort of thing that should have happened to somebody like maria de guesgne, not to him. for him, the sensible move right now would be to go quietly back into the normal world of reality he had stepped out of a few mornings ago. it was a simple physical act. the door was over there...

then mel looked back at his guests and promptly reversed his decision. they were certainly as real as any living creatures he'd ever seen, and he felt there weren't many human beings who would show up as well as miss green had done in any comparable emergency. his own unconscious fears meant only that he had run into a new and unpredictable factor in a world that had been becoming increasingly commonplace for a number of years now. he could see that once you'd got settled into the idea of a commonplace world, you might be startled by discoveries that didn't fit that notion—and he felt now, rather hazily, that it wasn't such a bad thing to be startled like that. it might wake you up enough to let you start living again yourself.

he took the receiver off the phone and laid it on the floor, so there wouldn't be any more interruptions. if he ran off now before seeing how the adventure ended, he knew he would never quit regretting it.

he went into the bedroom and pulled his chair back up to the window. the shadowy silhouette that was miss green turned and sounded a few fluting notes at him. he had the immediate impression that she was worried.

what was the matter?

she pointed.

clouds!

the sky was still full of the pastel glowings of the sunset. here and there were patches of black cloud, insignificant-looking, like ragged crows swimming through the pale light.

"rain," the thought came. "the cold rain—the killing rain! another storm!"

mel studied the sky uneasily. they might be right. "your friends are bound to get here first," he assured them, looking confident about it.

they smiled gratefully at him. he couldn't think of anything he might do to help. the princess looked comfortable on the towel he had laid along the screen, and miss green, as usual, looked alert, prepared to handle anything that had to be handled. he wondered about asking her to let him see how the globes were doing, and, instantly, a thought showed clear in his mind: "try it yourself!"

that hadn't occurred to mel before. he settled back comfortably in the chair and looked through the screen for them.

four or five fiery visualizations quivered here and there in the air, vanished, reappeared, vanished ...

mel stopped looking for them, and there was only the sky.

"closer?" he said aloud, rather pleased with himself. it had been easy!

miss green nodded, human fashion, and piped something in reply. closer, but—

he gathered she couldn't tell from here how close, and that there was trouble—a not quite translatable kind of trouble, but almost as if, in their dimension, they were struggling through the radiant distortions of a storm that hadn't gathered yet here on earth.

he glanced up at the sky again, more anxiously now. the black clouds didn't seem to have grown any larger.

by and by, because he had not had any awareness of going to sleep, mel was surprised to find himself waking up. he knew immediately that he had been asleep a long time, a period of hours. there was grayness around him, the vague near-light of very early morning, and he had a sense of having been aroused by a swirling confusion of angry sounds. but all was silent at the moment.

her answer was instantly in his mind. the storm had caused a delay—but a great globe was almost here now!

a curious pause followed. mel had a sense of hesitation. and then, very swiftly and faintly, a wisp of thought, which he would have missed if that pause had not made him alert, showed and vanished on the fringe of his consciousness:

"be careful! be very careful."

miss green turned back to the window. beside her now, mel saw the princess sitting as if asleep, with one arm across the twig basket and her head resting on her arm. before he could frame the puzzled question that was struggling up in his mind, there was a series of ear-splitting yowls from the court outside. it startled mel only for a moment, since it was a familiar sort of racket. the gray cat didn't tolerate intruding felines in its area, and about once a month it discovered and evicted one with the same lack of inhibition it was evidencing right now. it must have been the threatening squalls which usually preceded the actual battle that had awakened him.

the encounter itself was over almost instantly. there were sounds of a scampering retreat which ended beyond the garage, and, standing up at the window, mel saw the gray shape of the winner come gliding back down the court. the cat stopped below him and seemed to turn up its head. for a moment, he felt it was staring both at him and at miss green, very much like a competent little tiger in the gusty, gray night; then it made a low, menacing sound and moved on out of sight. apparently it hadn't yet forgotten its previous meeting with miss green.

mel looked down at her. "why should i be careful?"

there was a pause again, and what came then hardly seemed an answer to his question. the princess was very weak, miss green indicated; he might have to help.

he was still wondering about that—and wondering, too, whether he'd really had something like a warning from her—when a sudden wavering glare lit up the room behind them!

for a moment, he thought the fireball was inside the building. but the light was pouring in through the living room window; its source was in the opposite court, out of his line of sight. there was a crackling, hissing sound, and the light faded.

miss green came darting at him. mel put his hand up instinctively and felt her thrust the basket into it. almost instantly, she had picked up the princess and was outside the screen—

then the cat attacked from below in a silent, terrible leap, a long, twisting shadow in the air, and they seemed to drop out of sight together.

mel was out in the court, staring wildly around. in the swimming grayness nothing stirred or made sound. a cool, moist wind thrust at his face and faded. except for the toy basket of twigs in his hand, he might have been awakening from a meaningless dream.

then a lurid round of light like a big, wavering moon came out over the top of the building, and a sharp humming sound drove down through the air at him. instinctively again, he held out the basket and felt it plucked away. he thought it was miss green, but the shape had come and gone much too swiftly to be sure of that.

the light grew brilliant, a solid white—intolerable—and he backed hurriedly into the shelter of the garage, his heart hammering in excitement and alarm. he heard voices from the other court; a window slammed somewhere. he couldn't guess what was happening, but he didn't need miss green's warning now. he had an overwhelming urge to keep out of sight until the unearthly visitor would be gone—

and then, running like a rabbit, the gray cat appeared from behind a box halfway down the court and came streaking for the garage. mel watched its approach with a sort of silent horror, partly because it might be attracting undesirable attention to him—and partly because he seemed to know in that instant exactly what was going to be done to it.

it wasn't more than twenty feet away when something like a twisting string of fiery white reached down from above. the animal leaped sideways, blazed and died. there was a sound very like a gunshot, and the court was instantly dark.

mel stayed where he was. for half a minute or so, he was shaking much too violently to have left his retreat. by the end of that time, he knew better. it wasn't over yet!

pictures forming in the moist, dark air ... delicate, unstable outlines sliding through the court, changing as they moved. elfin castles swayed up out of grayness and vanished again. near the edge of his vision other shapes showed, more beautiful than human...

muttering to himself, between terror and delight, mel closed his eyes as tightly as he could, which helped for a moment. but then the impressions began drifting through his mind. the visitors were still nearby, hanging somewhere outside the limits of human sight in their monstrous fireball, in the windy sky. they were talking to him in their way.

mel asked in his mind what they wanted, and the answer showed immediately. the table in his living room with the pattern of glassy sand and pebbles miss green had constructed. the pattern was glowing again now under the cloth he had thrown over it. he was to go in and look at the pattern ...

"no!" he said aloud. it was all terror now.

"go look at the pattern ... go look at the pattern ..."

the pictures burst round him in a soundless wild flowering of beauty, flickering rains of color, a fountain of melting, shifting forms. his mind drowned in happiness. he was sinking through a warmth of kindness, gratitude and love...

a drift of rain touched his cheek coldly—and mel found himself outside the garage, moving drunkenly toward the apartment door. then, just for a moment, a picture of miss green printed itself on his mind.

she seemed to be standing before him, as tall now as he was, motionless, the strange wings half spread. the golden unhuman eyes were looking past him, watching something with cold malice and contempt—and with a concentration of purpose that made a death's mask of the perfectly chiseled green face!

in that second, mel understood the purpose as clearly as if she had told him. in the next, the image disappeared with a jerky, complete abruptness—

as if somebody were belatedly trying to wipe it out of his memory as well! but he knew he had seen her somehow—somewhere—as she actually was at that moment. and he knew what she had been watching. himself, mel armstrong, staggering blindly about in his other-dimension, down in the court!

he hadn't stayed in the court. he was back in the garage, backed trembling against a wall. she—they—weren't trying to show him gratitude, or reward him somehow; before they left, they simply wanted to destroy the human being who had found out about them, and whom they had used. the table and the pattern were some sort of trap! what he couldn't understand was why they didn't simply come down in their fireball and kill him as they had the cat.

they were still pouring their pictures at him, but he knew now how to counteract that. he stared out through the garage window at the lightening sky—looked at, listened to, what was there, filling his mind with earth shapes and sounds!

and he promptly discovered an ally he hadn't been counting on. he hadn't really been aware of the thumping wind before, and the sketchy pattering of raindrops, like a sweeping fall of leaves here and there. he hadn't even heard, beyond the continuous dim roar of surf from the beach, the gathering mutter of thunder!

they couldn't stay here long. the storm was ready to break. they weren't willing to risk coming out fully into the earth dimension to hunt him down. and he didn't have to go to their trap ...

rain spattered louder and closer. the sweat chilled on mel's body as his breathing grew quieter. they hadn't left him yet. if he relaxed his eyes and his mind, there was an instant faint recurrence of the swirling unearthly patterns. but he could keep them out by looking at what was really here. he only had to wait—

then the rain came down in a great, rushing tide, and he knew they were gone.

for a few seconds, he remained where he was, weak with relief. over the noise of the storm, he heard human voices faintly from the other court and from neighboring houses. that final crash must have awakened everybody—and someone had seen the great globe of fire when it first appeared.

there should be some interesting gossip in the morning!

which concerned mel not at all. after drinking in the sweet certainty of being still alive and safe, he had become aware of an entirely unexpected emotion, which was, curiously, a brief but sharp pang of grief at miss green's betrayal. why, he must have been practically in love with that other-dimensional, human-shaped rattlesnake! mulling it over in moody amazement at himself, it struck mel suddenly then that one could interpret her final action somewhat differently, too.

because she could have planted that apparently revealing picture of herself deliberately in his mind, to stop him from stumbling into the trap the others had set for him! she might have been planning to save him from the beginning, or merely relented at the last moment. there was no way of ever really knowing now, but mel found he preferred to believe that miss green's intention was good.

in the driving rain, he hesitated a moment beside the blackened lump that had been the cat, but he couldn't force himself to pick it up and remove it. if someone else found it, it might add to the gossip, but that wasn't any business of his any more. everyone knew that lightning did funny, selective things. so far as he was concerned, the matter was all over.

he opened the duplex door and stood staring.

his apartment door was open and the room beyond was dark, as he had left it. but down the little stairway and out of maria's upstairs apartment, light poured in a quiet flood.

she must have returned during the night while he was sleeping, probably drunk as a hoot-owl. the commotion downstairs hadn't been enough to arouse her. but something else had—she'd come down following swirling, beautiful, unearthly pictures, hunting the pattern that would guide her straight into a promised delight!

mel didn't have to reach into the apartment to switch on the light. lightning did funny, selective things, all right, and from where he stood, he could smell what had happened. they hadn't wasted that final bolt, after all!

oddly enough, what was uppermost in his mind in those seconds, while he continued to put off seeing what he was going to have to look at very soon, was the final awareness of how he must have appeared in their eyes:

a stupid native, barely capable of receiving training and instruction enough to be a useful servant. beyond that, they had simply had no interest in him.

it was maria they had worried about. the mental impressions he'd picked up in the court had been directed at her. miss green had been obliged to stop him finally from springing a trap which was set for another.

for maria, who might have endangered their leaving.