He rolled over and kissed her again and, tired or not, he could feel the desire surging through him again. Her small hands moved over the muscles of his shoulders, digging into his flesh, her teeth nibbling at his neck. Janet was one of those odd women who can’t seem to take a darned thing serious. No matter what the risks were involved, to her making wild love was a hell of a lot of fun and that was that. He had the hunch that if he tried to get serious with her - marriage serious - she’d bounce him fast. But hell, it was impossible to think of things like that with her, besides he was having too much fun. If, he thought later, you can call it fun when you’re so weak you can’t move.

“I have to go, lover,” she said finally. “Beth might come up, and I think she would be apt to get a little put out if she caught us in bed.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he grinned. “Besides, I have to start trying to find out about myself.”

“Do me a favor and don’t.” She pecked him lightly on the lips. “I like the new Nick Danson a hell of a lot better. C’mon. Snap my bra.”

They climbed out of bed and he helped her into her shorts and halter. She kissed him lightly again, said; “Good-by, lover,” and bounced out into the hall, leaving him standing there, naked in the bedroom.

What a world, he thought for the hundredth time and began to gather his clothes. When he started to put his pants on, his wallet dropped from the hip pocket and flopped open on the [p91]  floor. He picked it up, his eyes absently noticing the card that was exposed in the clear, plastic window. It was a Selective Service Registration Certificate and someone had written “small scar on right forearm” under the column for general markings. Absently he glanced at his right forearm, then his eyes widened in shock.

[p91]  

[p

]  

There was no scar!

A man cannot lose a scar, he told himself. He checked the card again. It was his, made out to Nicholas Howard Danson; but the scar was missing. He searched his arm and it wasn’t there. The full realization of the whole thing struck him suddenly like a punch in the mouth. He was not Nicholas Howard Danson!

Who was he? What the hell was going on? Had he killed the real Danson because they were obviously look alikes, and stolen the guy’s I.D. Why? Was he escaping from some kind of crime? Was he a criminal, and what did the strange 

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