ing sometimes, but still it
was better than what he got from the others.

The doctor hadn't wanted to perform the operation on his clubfoot. He
said it would be an unproductive waste of his time and talent, that he
owed it to the world to use them to the very best advantage. Finally he
agreed. The operation took about thirty seconds. He stuck a knife into
Sam's foot and went _snick-snick_. A couple of weeks later, his foot was
healed and it was just like anybody else's. Aunt Amy had paid him $500
in payments, only he returned the money order for the last fifty
dollars and wished them Merry Christmas.

Sam Collins could work after that. When Aunty Amy and Uncle Ralph
disappeared, he opened up the old house and started doing odd jobs for
people who weren't very afraid of him any more.

That first day had been quite a shock, when he discovered that not in
all these years had anybody cleaned the bathtub.

Sometimes, when he was taking his Saturday night soaker he still got
kind of a funny feeling. But he knew it was only rust from the faucets.

Collins sighed. It seemed like a long time since he had seen his mother
coming down those stairs....

He stopped, his throat aching with tightness.

Something was very strange.

His mother was coming down the stairs right now.

She was walking down the stairs, one step, two steps, coming closer to
him.

Collins ran up the stairs, prepared to run through the phantom to prove
it wasn't there.

The figure raised a gun and pointed it at him.

This time, she was going to shoot _him_.

It figured.

He always had bad luck.

"Stop!" the woman on the stairs said. "Stop or I'll shoot, Mr.
Collins!"

* * * * *

Collins stopped, catching to the bannister. He squinted hard, and as a
stereoptic slide lost its depth when you shut one eye, the woman on the
stairs was no longer his mother. She was young, pretty, brunette and
sweet-faced, and the gun she held shrunk from an old Army Colt to a .22
target pistol.

"Who _are_ you?" Collins demanded.

The girl took a grip on the gun with both hands and held it steady on
him.

"I'm Nancy Comstock," she said. "You tried to assault my mother a half
hour ago."

"Oh," he said. "I've never seen you before."

"Yes, you have. I've been away to school a lot, but you've seen me
around. I've had my eye on you. I know about men like you. I know what
has to be done. I came looking for you in you