Jim Lawrence looked at the intruder without answering. He knew Bette Bauer—a tall, beautiful brunette with deep grey-green eyes. There was nothing behind those eyes. She had been in St. Paul's Neuropsychiatric Hospital for three years—a schizophrenic catatonic, completely out of touch with the real world.
"You're behaving childishly," said the man with the odd-looking gun, softly. "All I have to do is look through your files. Where is she?"
Lawrence shrugged. "Ward 3, Room 41. Why do you want to know?" He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly midnight.
"It doesn't matter," the stranger said. "Come along. Lead us to where she is confined."
Outside the office, there were four men. They held their hands in their pockets as though there were guns there. Lawrence glanced from one to another. They all looked somewhat alike, all with that same dark slimness and hardness of feature.
"What do you want?" Lawrence demanded.
"Just take us to Bette Bauer," the leader said. "If you do not, you will be shot." He smiled.
It was the sight of that smile that made Jim Lawrence realize the cold dangerousness of the man.
"Very well," Jim said. "Come this way."
As he led them down the hall toward Ward 3, Jim wondered about these men. What interest could they have in Bette Bauer? She had once been a brilliant physicist, and had shown signs of actual genius. But something had happened to her shortly after she had received her doctor's degree in theoretical physics. Her mind had become unbalanced, and she had been committed to St. Paul's Hospital.