ducked into a bank, wormed his way around the various aisles, and
out the back entrance. A cab was waiting there, and he held out a
bill.

"I'm late, buddy. Penn Station!"

The cab-driver took the bill and the hint, and darted out, just as the
light was changing.

Penn Station was as good a place to try to get lost from pursuit as
any. Hawkes examined his wallet, considering trying to get a train
out--but he'd used up nearly all he had taken from Ellen.

And all his careful disguise had proved useless. They weren't
fooled--and this business of dodging was wearing thin. By now, they'd
know his habits!

He drew out a coin, flipping it. It came up heads. He frowned, but
there was nothing else to do. He moved down the ramp toward the subway
that would carry him back to Sixty-sixth and Broadway. He was probably
walking into their trap by now, but the coin was right. He had to free
Ellen. If they got him, it couldn't be much worse for him.

Then he shuddered. He couldn't know whether it would be worse for his
country, or even his world. He couldn't really know anything.

V

It was growing dark as he walked down Sixty-sixth, eyeing every man
suspiciously, and knowing his suspicion would do no good. He was still
trying to think, though he knew his thoughts were as useless as his
suspicions.

If he could remember! His mind came up sharply against leaving Irma
and taking out the mail; then it went abruptly blank. What had been in
the letter? It had been from a professor--it might have been from
Professor Meinzer. That would tie in neatly. But Meinzer was dead, and
he couldn't remember. They'd stripped him of his memory. How? Why?
Were they trying to prevent his giving information to others--or were
they trying to get something from him? And what could he know?

He'd dabbled with ESP mathematically, but now he found himself
wondering if it could exist. Could they be tracking him by some
natural or mechanical ability to read his mind? He strained his own
mind to find a whisper of foreign thought, outside his brain. He drew
a blank, of course, as he'd expected.

There were no answers. They could play with him, like a cat juggling a
mouse, letting him almost learn something--and then, always, they
arrived just in time to prevent his success!

Put a rat in a maze where it can't learn the path, and it goes insane.
But what good would he be to anyone if they drove him insane? And why
bother with all that when they coul