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establishment of Heron Rhodes long before that chance meeting with Ginny on the train last Friday. But why would Big Doc have ever had any interest in Heron Rhodes?
    Somehow it didn’t make sense. Unless …
    Jan shook his head and looked across the room at the desk where Jackson Lane and Bill Zorn were waiting for the first message from Big Doc. They had come immediately when Heron called, and were followed quickly by Sergeant Bricker, who had brought a recording apparatus to attach to the phone.
    In their concern for Ginny, it seemed that no one had thought to tell Bricker about his return. At the sight of him the sergeant, after a shocked stare on entering, had demanded, “How the devil did you manage to get away from those people and come back here?”
    â€œI just managed,” he’d told Bricker, and Heron Rhodes had added, “For safety’s sake we thought we’d better keep it quiet. And please, Sergeant, we want to keep this quiet, too. Don’t let it get out to the papers.”
    â€œYou have my word on it, Doctor. I—I’ll do everything I can to make up for my blunder. All we need now is a yard full of reporters to foul things up.” Bricker frowned and said, “Er, there almost has to be a connection between what happened to this young fellow, and Ginny being snatched. Don’t you think so?”
    â€œIt would appear that way, Sergeant. But so far we haven’t heard a word from the kidnappers.”
    â€œWell, I’m sure you will soon. I’ll fix the phone, then I’ll have to hurry back to meet Nat Martin. He’s on his way out from the city now. Did Mr. Lane tell you about him?”
    â€œSomething was said about a State Bureau man you knew.”
    â€œMr. Lane figured we’d better call him in. It’ll be unofficial. Martin’s the best there is—used to be with the FBI, and they still consult him.”
    Bricker had made speedy work of attaching the recorder. On the way out he’d paused uncertainly and said, “I’m sorry, young fellow, about turning you over to those guys the other day. But honestly, I thought—”
    â€œIt—it’s all right, Sergeant,” he’d told Bricker. “A man has to do what he believes is his duty.”
    Bricker, obviously grateful, had suddenly grinned and given him a pat on the back. “Boy, did you put up a scrap!”
    That had been two hours ago.
    The matronly cook, Agnus McCoy’s sister Aggie, came in with a large tray of sandwiches and snacks that she placed on a table beside a stack of paper cups and plates. Behind her appeared Hecuba with a fresh pot of coffee.
    Hecuba, whose eyes were looking haunted, said, “Thank you for helping, Aggie. This may be an all-night session, so maybe you’d better go home and look after Angus.”
    â€œThat I will, ma’am, though it’s not Angus what worries me.” The cook shook her head, dabbed at her eye with a corner of her apron, and started away after giving Jan a quick sidelong glance full of curiosity. “You need me later, ma’am, just you call me and I’ll be right over.”
    â€œThank you so much, Aggie.” Hecuba went around and touched Otis on the cheek. “Young man, it’s long past your bedtime.”
    Otis thrust out his jaw. “I ain’t goin’ to bed. I ain’t goin’ no place till I hear from Ginny.”
    Heron Rhodes said, “Oh, leave him be. We may need him.”
    â€œOf course,” Hecuba murmured. “I sometimes forget those two are telepaths. They’re so quiet about it.”
    Heron sank down on the sofa beside Jan. He rubbed his eyes and muttered, “You handled Bricker just right, son. He’s not a bad sort, but it wouldn’t do for him to know too much about us.” He was silent for a while, then his hands clenched and he said slowly, “You see what’s coming, don’t you?”
    Jan