"But how do I know?" Magnessen pleaded. "You guys come busting in here--" 

 "You can trust me," Rath said. 

 Magnessen studied Rath's face and nodded sourly. "His name's Elwood Caswell. He lives just down the block at number 341." 

 

 

 The man who came to the door was short, with red hair and red-rimmed eyes. His right hand was thrust into his coat pocket. He seemed very calm. 

 "Are you Elwood Caswell?" Rath asked. "The Elwood Caswell who bought a Regenerator early this afternoon at the Home Therapy Appliances Store?" 

 "Yes," said Caswell. "Won't you come in?" 

 Inside Caswell's small living room, they saw the Regenerator, glistening black and chrome, standing near the couch. It was unplugged. 

 "Have you used it?" Rath asked anxiously. 

 "Yes." 

 Follansby stepped forward. "Mr. Caswell, I don't know how to explain this, but we made a terrible mistake. The Regenerator you took was a Martian model--for giving therapy to Martians." 

 "I know," said Caswell. 

 "You do?" 

 "Of course. It became pretty obvious after a while." 

 "It was a dangerous situation," Rath said. "Especially for a man with your--ah--troubles." He studied Caswell covertly. The man seemed fine, but appearances were frequently deceiving, especially with psychotics. Caswell had been homicidal; there was no reason why he should not still be. 

 And Rath began to wish he had not dismissed Smith and his policemen so summarily. Sometimes an armed squad was a comforting thing to have around. 

 Caswell walked across the room to the therapeutic machine. One 

 Prev. P 18/20 next