oisy?"

"Why, I suppose so. The Crystal Cafe. It's just about a block--"

"I know where it is. Meet you in half an hour!" And the receiver
clicked.

* * * * *

The Crystal Cafe was no longer painted red, but the temperature was
still up. And they had added piped-in music interspersed with
commercials. The advertisements were for Frosty-Flip, Marlin
Cigarettes--"They're sanitized," the announcer purred--and something
called Choco-Bite candy bars that Burckhardt couldn't remember ever
having heard of before. But he heard more about them quickly enough.

While he was waiting for Swanson to show up, a girl in the cellophane
skirt of a nightclub cigarette vendor came through the restaurant with
a tray of tiny scarlet-wrapped candies.

"Choco-Bites are _tangy_," she was murmuring as she came close to his
table. "Choco-Bites are _tangier_ than tangy!"

Burckhardt, intent on watching for the strange little man who had
phoned him, paid little attention. But as she scattered a handful of
the confections over the table next to his, smiling at the occupants,
he caught a glimpse of her and turned to stare.

"Why, Miss Horn!" he said.

The girl dropped her tray of candies.

Burckhardt rose, concerned over the girl. "Is something wrong?"

But she fled.

The manager of the restaurant was staring suspiciously at Burckhardt,
who sank back in his seat and tried to look inconspicuous. He hadn't
insulted the girl! Maybe she was just a very strictly reared young
lady, he thought--in spite of the long bare legs under the cellophane
skirt--and when he addressed her, she thought he was a masher.

Ridiculous idea. Burckhardt scowled uneasily and picked up his menu.

"Burckhardt!" It was a shrill whisper.

Burckhardt looked up over the top of his menu, startled. In the seat
across from him, the little man named Swanson was sitting, tensely
poised.

"Burckhardt!" the little man whispered again. "Let's get out of here!
They're on to you now. If you want to stay alive, come on!"

There was no arguing with the man. Burckhardt gave the hovering
manager a sick, apologetic smile and followed Swanson out. The little
man seemed to know where he was going. In the street, he clutched
Burckhardt by the elbow and hurried him off down the block.

"Did you see her?" he demanded. "That Horn woman, in the phone booth?
She'll have them here in five minutes, believe me, so hurry it up!"

* *