oncluded. "Just wonderful. Only I
wished you'd come with me. You'd have liked it. Henry, did you take
the garbage out?"

"Yes, dear," he answered. "Hours ago."

He yawned elaborately again. She mumbled something about having to
keep the kitchen clean because cleanliness was next to godliness, but
her automatic yawn muffled the words. Then she glanced at the clock.
"Heavens, it's almost one! And early to bed and early to rise...."

Henry jerked his eyes away, just as he caught the first glimpse of
Alfear popping into existence beside her. He heard the beginning of a
shriek change to a horrible gargling and then become a dying moan.
Something soft and heavy hit the floor with a dull thud. Henry turned
around slowly.

"Dead," Alfear said calmly, rubbing one of his fingers. "This business
of getting just one finger through the planes into her head cuts off
the circulation. There, that's better. Satisfied?"

Henry dropped beside the corpse. She was dead, according to the mirror
test, and there wasn't a mark on her. He stared at the puffy, relaxed
features; he'd expected an expression of horror, but she seemed simply
asleep. His initial feeling of pity and contrition vanished; after
all, it had been quick and nearly painless. Now he was free!

"Thanks, Alfear," he said. "It's fine--fine. Do I dismiss you now?"

"No need this time. I'm free as soon as the job's done. Unless you'd
like to talk awhile...."

Henry shook his head quickly. He had to telephone a doctor. Then he
could call Shirley--her mother would be gone by now. "Not now. Maybe
I'll summon you sometime for a smoke or something. But not now!"

"Okay," Alfear said, and vanished. Surprisingly, seeing him disappear
wasn't unpleasant, after all. He just wasn't there.

Waiting for the doctor was the worst part of it. All the legends Henry
knew ran through his mind. Alfear could have given her a stroke and
then added some violent poison that would show up in an autopsy. He
could be sitting wherever he was, chuckling because Henry hadn't
restricted his wish enough to be safe. Or any of a hundred things
could happen. There was the first witch, who had thought she had
Apalon under control, only to be turned to dust.

But the doctor took it calmly enough. "Stroke, all right," he decided.
"I warned her last year that she was putting on too much weight and
getting high blood pressure. Too bad, Mr. Aimsworth, but there was
nothing you could do. I'll turn in a certif