d in it."

"Is that so?" Crane asked guardedly.

"Yes. Perhaps because of my experience along those lines in South
America. I consider it a great opportunity to serve and I understand the
administrator's post is still open."

Porter's tone was vague. "Yes. I believe it is."

"Of course, I'm quite happy where I am, you understand. I'm not looking
for a change. However, the challenge does intrigue me."

"I'll give you a ring, Porter. Just sit tight until you hear from me."

After hanging up, Porter sat back and wondered. He tried to analyze the
tone in which Crane had made the promise to call. It had been falsely
cordial, beyond a doubt. Maybe Crane figured Taber's scalp was too small
a price to pay for the hydroelectric plum. Well, in that case, Porter
philosophized, he hadn't lost a great deal. It was all in the game.

* * * * *

Frank Corson was confused and troubled by the changes that continued to
come over Rhoda Kane. He could not quite put his finger on the start of
it, but as he saw her now, a scant two weeks after the incident of the
man with two hearts, he could clearly see the changes. Where she had
been a beautiful, poised, self-controlled woman, she was now more
nervous and quick of movement, brighter of eye, full of a new restless
energy he could not account for.

Also, the dominance in their affair had shifted. He had always, it
seemed, been the dominant factor, in that Rhoda had continually catered
to his moods and bent to the winds of his own unrest and
dissatisfaction.

But one evening when he was free of duty at Park Hill, Rhoda came home
and entered the apartment without glancing toward the double-width sofa
by the window. Frank, stretched out with a drink in his hand, watched
her as she took her key out of the lock and put it back in her purse. He
was struck by the fact that with this new "personality" that had become
a part of her, she was even more attractive than before. A glow had been
added. The quiet, dignified, statuesque beauty of before had been
mysteriously vitalized by a new kind of inner life.

She turned from the door and, looking into the bright glare of the
eight-foot windows, she saw him on the sofa and took a quick step
forward.

"Oh," she cried. "It's you!"

"Of course, it's me."

Rhoda stopped dead and Frank was sure that the look of eagerness died as
suddenly as it had been born.

"Well, good lord! Whom were you expecting?"

Rhoda