man on vacation. Rent one of the asteroids so you'll be away from it all. I've arranged for someone to go along and pose as your wife and all you have to do is wait until—"

"Wait a minute," Manning said. "If your idea is to send some old hag along with me and then expect me to wait around while she hires some guy to cut my throat, you can get yourself another boy."

The visiscreen industry lost a great actor when J. Barnaby Cruikshank became a magnate. He could whip up a few tears and a reproachful expression at the drop on an accusation. "You wrong me, my dear boy," he said sadly. "I wouldn't think of putting your life in jeopardy. As I was about to say, it will appear that your wife is a nag and that you are heartily sick of her. Then all you do is wait to be contacted—probably by this marital relations individual—and make a deal for him to kill your wife after you've taken out insurance on her life. How does that sound?"

"Two objections. First, I still don't like the idea of being cooped up with some old crow you picked out. Second—what if something slips up and she is killed?"

"We will take up the old crow aspect in a moment," said J. Barnaby. "As to the second objection, she is an Aliothan. They are rather difficult to kill by ordinary methods. I trust that the matter will be concluded before the assassin discovers she is from Alioth."

Manning tried to conjure up a picture of an Aliothan, but he couldn't remember ever having seen one. "What do Aliothans look like?" he asked suspiciously.

"Completely humanoid in appearance," J. Barnaby said cheerfully. "Also in most of their habits, I might add. You are ready to leave at once?"

"I suppose so," Manning said reluctantly.

"Good." J. Barnaby leaned forward and touched a key on the interoffice plate of his visiphone. "You may now send in Miss Sera," he said.

Manning Draco waited with some trepidation. He was well aware of J. Barnaby's attitude concerning his interest in comely wenches and he could hardly imagine that this was anything but some female who would give him nightmares for months to come. In a way, he was right.

The door to the office opened.

"Manning," J. Barnaby said, "this is Fanya Sera—to be known hereafter as Mrs. Melvin Draco. Miss Sera, this is Manning Draco."

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