m said. "I didn't see her make the switch."

"Me, too," I agreed. I could see the tension drain from Mary's face.
She was prettier when she wasn't worried. She was pretty all the time,
when you got right down to it. No wonder she could fool a teller. He
probably hadn't taken his eyes off that dazzling smile.

"Is that all?" Lindstrom asked.

"Would you certify that you saw her make these switches, and that Psi
was not involved?" I asked him.

"Of course. I don't want to, but, if you call me as a witness, I'll
testify to what I saw," he said glumly.

"It may not be necessary," I said. "I really ought to call you, just
to teach you some manners, Prof. But then, we all have a right to be a
little yellow."

Mary would have preferred to remain in silence as we rode a cab back
to the Moldy Fig, and huddled over in her corner of the bubble. There
wasn't enough light, that high over the city, to read her expression.

"Here's the strategy," I said, about midtown. "If we can get the Bank
to agree to restitution, and to sign an admission that you did not use
HC or any other Psi powers to work your theft, I think you'll be off
the hook. I doubt the Federal Jury will listen to an information."

"I hope you're right."

"This is my business," I growled. "Do you want me to represent you?"

She didn't answer that until the 'copter had grounded in front of the
Fig. "All right," she said. "I don't know what you're so mad at all
the time, but it doesn't seem to be me. I'd like you to represent me."

I watched her scoot across the sidewalk and run up the stairs to
Elmer's place. For some screwy reason I hoped she had another place to
hole up for the night. I was getting as bad as Renner--looking
lecherously at the raffish display of shapely leg as the blond
bombshell beat it.

* * * * *

I directed my hacker to my apartment, and grabbed the phone in the
bubble. The Mobile Operator got me Vito Passarelli at his home. He
sounded as if he had already retired.

"This is you know who," I said. "It's late, I know, but we'd better
talk before morning. My apartment is the safest spot I can think of.
I'm in the Directory."

"Now?"

"Now."

I beat His Honor to my apartment by long enough to hang up my jacket,
turn the ceiling on to a dim but friendly glow and get out a bottle of
Scotch. Judges don't drink bourbon.

I let Passarelli in when the buzzer sounded. "I'm reasonably sure
there are no mic