icate. Want me to contact a
mortician for you?"

Henry nodded, trying to appear properly grief-stricken. "I--I'd
appreciate it."

"Too late now," the doctor said. "But I'll be glad to send Mr. Glazier
around in the morning." He pulled the sheet up over Emma's body,
leaving it on the backroom couch to which they had carried it. "You'd
better go to a hotel for the night. And I'll give you something that
will make you sleep."

"I'd rather not," Henry said quickly. "I mean, I'd feel better here.
You know...."

"Certainly, certainly." The doctor nodded sympathetically, but as if
it were an old story to him. He left the pills with instructions, said
the proper things again, and finally went out.

* * * * *

Shirley's voice was sleepy and cross when she answered, but it grew
alert as soon as he told her about Emma's stroke. He was almost
beginning to believe the simple version of the story himself.

"Poor Henry," she murmured. Her voice sharpened again. "It _was_ a
stroke? The doctor was sure?"

"Positive," he assured her, cursing himself for having let her guess
some of the thoughts that had been on his mind. "The doctor said she'd
had hypertension and such before."

She considered it a second, and then a faint laugh sounded. "Then I
guess there's no use in crying over spilled milk, is there, Henry? If
it had to happen, it just had to. And I mean, it's like fate,
almost!"

"It _is_ fate!" he agreed happily. Then he dropped his voice. "And now
I'm all alone here, baby lamb, and I had to call you up...."

She caught on at once, as she always did. "You can't stay there now!
It's so morbid. Henry, you come right over here!"

Demons, Henry thought as he drove the car through the quiet
residential streets toward her apartment, had their uses. They were a
much maligned breed. Probably the people who had summoned them before
had been ignorant, stupid people; they'd messed up their chances and
brought trouble on themselves by not finding out the facts and putting
it all down to superstitious magic. The fellows were almost
people--maybe even a little superior to humans. If a man would just
try to understand them, they could help him, and with no danger at
all.

"No strings attached," he said to himself, and then chuckled softly.
It fitted perfectly; now there were no strings attached to him. Emma
was at peace, and he was free. He'd have to wait a few months to marry
Shirley legally, of