n slowly drooped back to normal, as
if to say that after all these years he no longer puzzled about a lovely
young girl who came around in the middle of a Wednesday rest period,
dressed like Saturday night and smelling of perfume, ordering two
intoxicating drinks--when she was obviously traveling alone.

* * * * *

Lenore felt a thrill of secret pleasure go through her, a feeling of
possessing a delicious secret, a delightful sensation of reckless
gaiety, of life stirring throughout the sleepy ship, of a web of secrets
and countersecrets hidden from everyone but this unconcerned observer.

She walked back down the corridor, balancing the tray. When a little
splashed over the rim of the tall glasses, she took a sip from each,
tasting the sweet, cold liquid in her throat.

When she came to the head of the stairs, she realized that she did not
even know her telepath's name. Closing her eyes, she said very slowly
and distinctly inside her head, "Mr. Fairheart?"

Instantly his thought was with her, overpowering, as breathless as an
embrace. "Where are you?"

"At the head of the central stairs."

"Down you go."

She went down the stairs, through more corridors, down more stairs,
while he guided her steps. Once she paused to sip again at each glass
when the liquid splashed as she was going down. The ice tickled her nose
and made her sneeze.

"You live a long way down," she said.

"I've got to be near my charges," he answered. "I told you I work on the
ship; I'm a zoologist classifying any of the new specimens of
extraterrestrial life they're always picking up. And I always get stuck
with the worst quarters on the ship. Why, I can't even call all my suite
my own. The whole front room is filled with some sort of ship's gear
that my steward stumbles over every meal time."

She went on and on, down and down. "How many flights?" she wondered.
"Two or twelve or twenty?" Now, why couldn't she remember? Only four
little sips and her mind felt so cloudy. Down another corridor, and what
was that funny smell? These passages were poorly ventilated in the lower
levels; probably that was what made her feel so dizzy.

"Only one more flight," he whispered. "Only one more."

Down and along and then the door. She paused, conscious of rising
excitement, conscious of her beating heart.

Dimly she noticed the sign on the door. "You--you mean whatever it is
you're taking care of is in there with you?"