ony, because they can use it
over and over again."

It was too hard for Swanson to take in. He only said: "What do we do
about it?"

"We go to the police. They can't use human beings for guinea pigs!"

"How do we get to the police?"

Burckhardt hesitated. "I think--" he began slowly. "Sure. This place
is the office of somebody important. We've got a gun. We'll stay right
here until he comes along. And he'll get us out of here."

Simple and direct. Swanson subsided and found a place to sit, against
the wall, out of sight of the door. Burckhardt took up a position
behind the door itself--

And waited.

* * * * *

The wait was not as long as it might have been. Half an hour, perhaps.
Then Burckhardt heard approaching voices and had time for a swift
whisper to Swanson before he flattened himself against the wall.

It was a man's voice, and a girl's. The man was saying, "--reason why
you couldn't report on the phone? You're ruining your whole day's
test! What the devil's the matter with you, Janet?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dorchin," she said in a sweet, clear tone. "I thought
it was important."

The man grumbled, "Important! One lousy unit out of twenty-one
thousand."

"But it's the Burckhardt one, Mr. Dorchin. Again. And the way he got
out of sight, he must have had some help."

"All right, all right. It doesn't matter, Janet; the Choco-Bite
program is ahead of schedule anyhow. As long as you're this far, come
on in the office and make out your worksheet. And don't worry about
the Burckhardt business. He's probably just wandering around. We'll
pick him up tonight and--"

They were inside the door. Burckhardt kicked it shut and pointed the
gun.

"That's what you think," he said triumphantly.

It was worth the terrified hours, the bewildered sense of insanity,
the confusion and fear. It was the most satisfying sensation
Burckhardt had ever had in his life. The expression on the man's face
was one he had read about but never actually seen: Dorchin's mouth
fell open and his eyes went wide, and though he managed to make a
sound that might have been a question, it was not in words.

The girl was almost as surprised. And Burckhardt, looking at her, knew
why her voice had been so familiar. The girl was the one who had
introduced herself to him as April Horn.

Dorchin recovered himself quickly. "Is this the one?" he asked
sharply.

The girl said, "Yes."

Dorchin nodded. "I take it