e but didn't lock it. Then he turned, beamed myopically at his
visitor, and said, "Now I'm at your service, young man."

"Fine, Doctor. Now, this series we're planning will highlight modern
techniques with an eye to illustrating ..."

While King asked questions and Entman answered, another part of King's
mind was busy with the real problem at hand. Entman would, no doubt,
lock the safe before he left the office. Burglary--a risk King was
willing to take--would get him back into the office when no one was
around, but how could he open the safe? Walking straight to the thing he
was after had been fine. Having been put in a position to get to know
what the notes looked like was another astounding piece of good fortune.
All this, however, could turn out to mean nothing because he didn't know
how to crack a safe.

He would have to report failure after being so close.

"As I said," Entman prattled on happily, "when I was at Johns Hopkins
I--"

The desk phone rang. Entman picked it up, answered it and then hung up.
"Would I impose if I asked you for a fifteen-minute break? Some people
are calling that I must see--an appointment I forgot."

"Not at all," Les King assured him. "I'd like to do a little work on
these notes to see if I left out anything."

"So good of you. Boring people, really. I'll get rid of them as soon as
possible."

Entman left through an inner door and King was stunned by his good luck.
He called it that even while experience and judgment shrieked warnings.
This was too pat--too easy. Something was phony in the setup.

But he didn't even have to fight what common sense was telling him. He
was too busy opening the safe, spreading the data out on the desktop,
and using a small camera he carried in the side pocket of his jacket.

Then, he put the data back in the safe and felt the hot, excitement
surge up through his body.

* * * * *

"I'm afraid I owe you a drink," Entman said ruefully.

"You were right. When I got back to the office, he was gone."

Brent Taber grinned, but only with his mouth--his eyes remained somber
and weary. "The data was back in the safe?"

"Right where I put it. I'll swear it hadn't been moved."

"He was photographing it thirty seconds after you left."

"But how can you be sure?"

Brent Taber pulled at his ear and stared at a Renoir on the wall of
Entman's drawing room without seeing it. "I can't, of course. We can't
be sure of anythi