m, drenched every square centimeter of the grid
suit with it and watched breathlessly through the hours while it dried.

In the glowing, shadowless illumination, the suit gradually disappeared.
First, the wall against which it hung shone mistily through it. Then
there was wall, slightly outlined by a greyish cast. And at last, only
an indescribable fuzziness that had to be sensed rather than seen.

V

He took the fuzziness off its hanger and threw it up in the air toward
the center light. The light was undimmed. The fuzziness was air. It
sprawled down across the Throne and became diamond, except for the
sleeve that dangled; part air, part intricately patterned Persian
carpet. It wasn't a fuzziness, exactly, it was more of a faint tone of
difference in the color-texture feel. It was as though what was behind
the suit was miraculously translated to its facing surface and then
reflected to the eye within the nth of utter fidelity.

Grinning, slowly Lonnie's lower lip crept out and up to squeeze its
mate. Then, because it was always better to be sure, he donned the suit
to try it against a variety of experimental backgrounds, indoors and
out.

Over at Pol-Anx, the servo-tracer went to sleep; the desk sergeant
yanked the creaking joints of his bunioned feet down off Jason's desk;
on the bench in Gov-Park, Jason's communico squeaked briefly and Jason
and his four men rose to emergency alert.

Two hours later, the Wold Tiara still coruscating in the Fane's blaze of
light, the servo-tracer picked up its placid humming. Jason's communico
squeaked again and Jason's men relaxed while Jason himself clutched his
head with both hands and whispered bitter things.

At the same time, Lonnie, whistling cheerfully, drew his legs out of the
suit, shook it straight and hung it back on the wall. He was sure now.
As sure as he was that the little biochemist and his wife and quintet of
daughters would not want for neo-hyperacth or anything else any longer.
He giggled a little, thinking of Jason crouched on the bench, glaring
vacantly, utterly unconscious of Lonnie passing across the grass so
close beside him.

At his own convenience, Lonnie selected his night; a full-moon night
because his now-invisible grid suit didn't require dark. He picked a
fairly early hour, too, because what matter if a few yawps gawked as the
Tiara vanished? And that one of those yawps would be Jason, stodgily on
his bench, gave Lonnie an extra fillip. Perha