ad checked, it contained not the slightest hint of dishonesty.
The nature of my business is such that I need someone of maximum
integrity to contract it with. I had to go far and wide to find you."

"You're being unfair," Philip said, mollified despite himself. "Most
real-estate agents are honest. As a matter of fact, there's one in the
same office building with me that I'd trust with the family jewels--if I
had any family jewels."

"Good," Judith Darrow said. "I gambled on you knowing someone like
that."

He waited for her to elaborate, and when she did not he finished his
coffee and stood up. "If you don't mind, I'll turn in," he said. "I've
had a pretty hard day."

"I'll show you your room."

She got two candles, lit them, and after placing them in gilt
candlesticks, handed one of the candlesticks to him. The room was on the
third floor in under the eaves--as faraway from hers, probably, as the
size of the house permitted. Philip did not mind. He liked to sleep in
rooms under eaves. There was an enchantment about the rain on the roof
that people who slept in less celestial bowers never got to know. After
Judith left, he threw open the single window and undressed and climbed
into bed. Remembering the rose, he got it out of his coat pocket and
examined it by candlelight. It was green all right--even greener than he
had at first thought. Its scent was reminiscent of the summer breeze
that was blowing through the downstairs rooms, though not at all in
keeping with the chill October air that was coming through his bedroom
window. He laid it on the table beside the bed and blew out the candle.
He would go looking for the bush tomorrow.

* * * * *

Philip was an early riser, and dawn had not yet departed when, fully
dressed, he left the room with the rose in his coat pocket and quietly
descended the stairs. Entering the living room, he found Zarathustra
curled up in one of the armchairs, and for a moment he had the eerie
impression that the animal had extended one of his shaggy ears and was
scratching his back with it. When Philip did a doubletake, however, the
ear was back to normal size and reposing on its owner's tawny cheek.
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he said, "Come on, Zarathustra, we're
going for a walk."

He headed for the back door, Zarathustra at his heels. A double door
leading off the dining room barred his way and proved to be locked.
Frowning, he returned to the