fact that the evidence fits the claim. If what Farrow said were
true, my marriage to Catherine would have provided them with the same
lever as the little blonde receptionist. The pile-up must have really
fouled up their plans.

"It did, Steve," said Farrow, who had been following my mental
ramblings. "The Highways had to step in and help. This fouled things up
for both sides."

"Both sides?" I asked, completely baffled.

She nodded. "Until the accident, the Medical Center did not know that
the Highways existed. But when Catherine dropped completely out of
sight, Thorndyke did a fine job of probing you. That's when he came upon
the scant evidence of the Highway Sign and the mental impression of the
elder Harrison lifting the car so that Phillip could get you out. Then
he knew, and--"

"Farrow," I snapped, "there are a lot of holes in your story. For
instance--"

She held up a hand to stop me. "Steve," she said quietly, "you know how
difficult it is for a non-telepath to find someone he can trust. But I'm
trying to convince you that--"

I stopped Farrow this time. "How can I believe you now?" I asked her
pointedly. "You seem to have a part in this side of the quiet warfare."

Nurse Farrow made a wry face as though she'd just discovered that the
stuff she had in her mouth was a ball of wooly centipedes. "I'm a
woman," she said simply. "I'm soft and gullible and easily talked into
complacency. But I've just learned that their willingness to accept
women is based upon the fact that no culture can thrive without women to
propagate the race. I find that I am--" She paused, swallowed, and her
voice became strained with bitterness, "--useful as a breeding animal.
Just one of the peasants whose glory lies in carrying their heirs. But I
tell you, Steve--" and here she became strong and her voice rang out
with a vigorous rejection of her future, "I'll be forever damned if I
will let my child be raised with the cockeyed notion that he has some
God-Granted Right to Rule."

My vigilant sense of perception had detected a change in the
human-pattern in the building. People were moving--no, it was one person
who was moving.

Down in the laboratory below, and at the other end of the building,
Catherine was still working over the autoclave and instruments. The
waspish-looking superintendent had taken off for somewhere else, and
while Catherine was alone now, she was about to be joined by Dr.
Thorndyke. Half afraid that my perc