And in my mind I made my own reply. I thought in deep concentration: "How do you read me, Psi-man?"
The response was zero-zero. And it meant—nothing. My Psi-man could have been following my every thought from the moment that my ringing telephone summoned me to Gordon Andrews' apartment to the present instant, so far as I could tell. There was no feeling of intrusion, no feeling of presence.
III
Florence Wood giggled. "Going to stop the rain again, Captain Schnell?"
The storm was still howling. In the near suburbs, the rain came in more gracefully draped sheets and the wind was not whirlpooled by the fluelike canyons between the buildings, but residential rainwater is just as wet per cubic centimeter as the metropolitan variety.
"Maybe I should drive up over the lawn," I suggested.
"Daddy would blow a fuse."
"We might wait for it to let up."
"I'd rather not," she said soberly. "It's one thing to be driven home in a strange car during a cloudburst, but it's something else to sit out here making it look as if I were paying off by making out."