"Who? Alec?"

He shook his head.

"I asked who."

"If I were free to tell you that, I wouldn't be here. I would be making an arrest." He opened the slip of paper he had held in his hand throughout and read to himself.

"The name," she said, impatient once more.

He held the paper out to her and said, "Walsh. James Henry Walsh."

She laughed, taking the paper but not bothering to read. "That means I'm Anna Walsh."

"No, Richmond," he corrected. Then he went on: "I can further provide you with a detailed sketch of the man's life up until he was twenty-three. That would be four years prior to your birth."

"Did he attend a government home?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Nothing-a theory."

"He did not," Cargill said. "His parents died when he was young, but an aunt and uncle raised him."

"What if he's dead?"

Cargill shrugged. "Dead, alive, it makes no great difference to me. I'll find the body-presuming there is one- and ensure that it's his. In any event, I will follow the case to its very end. I always do."

"I'm glad to hear that. But-well-this whole thing has become rather difficult. Since you started investigating Alec too. If he knew you were here, he'd be very upset. Enraged."

"Perhaps he does know." Cargill met her gaze. "There's a man watching your house, you know."

"No," she said. "I didn't know."

"A small man. A Negro. Very short hair."

"Timothy Ralston," she said, without meaning to speak aloud.

"Ah, I thought I knew him."

"You know Ralston?"

He waved his dismissing hand again. "Only slightly but-if it is your wish-I can promise not to reveal our relationship to your husband in any way."

"Yes. Yes-I would appreciate that." But if Ralston knew, that meant the Inner Circle knew. Would they tell Alec? If-that is-they could find him.

"And?" Cargill nodded toward Eathen.

"I trust him totally," Anna said. "Eathen and I have no secrets."

"Very good." Cargill stood, brushing at his clothes. "I will send you the report to which I referred within a few hours. Whenever I have further information to impart, I will call."

"Fine." Anna stood too. "Eathen-see that Inspector Cargill reaches the terminal safely."

"Oh, I can handle myself," Cargill said. He turned and hurried back toward the house, almost sprinting.

Anna whispered: "Go with him. Make sure he gets on a hovercraft. Don't leave till he does."

"Yes," Eathen said, rushing after Cargill. From where she sat, Anna could hear the inspector's stubborn protests. But Eathen would surely win out in the end. He was quite incapable of disobeying any request she made of him.

A moment later, experiencing the totality of the silence around her, she realized that she was alone-really alone- for the first time in months. The house and garden were hers.

What was it? Her father? Just a silly obsession? Or was it really important-would it help her?

Her interest had been aroused some months ago. Mrs. Miller had died and, while exploring some old papers, Anna had chanced upon a brief typewritten note, unsigned and undated. The first few paragraphs had briefly described the pleasant state of the weather in some unnamed locale. It was the final paragraph alone, she knew it by heart, that had spoken directly to her: "I trust my daughter is well and giving you no more trouble than might ordinarily be expected. It remains my fond hope that it will someday be possible for me to see Anna but until then I am convinced she will continue to receive excellent care from you."

She had immediately searched the remainder of Mrs. Miller's effects but that one letter had been the only one. For weeks afterward, she had carried the single crumpled page with her everywhere. From various acquaintances, she had learned of Inspector Cargill. Contacting him, she explained the situation and he agreed to accept the case. She had really expected nothing. But now he had come and, without prelude, given her a name. James Henry Walsh. She uttered the words aloud.

She had told Alec nothing. Why? For many, many reasons: because she seldom told Alec anything; because he would no doubt interpret her obsession as evidence of reversion; because Alec, like herself, had been abandoned at birth, and yet he had never made the least effort at uncovering the secrets of his past. No, if she told Alec, he would tell the Inner Circle and that would be the end of it. They did not like to have their theories challenged, especially those that were most obviously weak. Maybe Alec believed what they told him: that Superiors are always abandoned children because their parents, sensing the strangeness of their offspring, grow fearful and choose to desert. That was what the Inner Circle said. She didn't think it made the least amount of sense, that it was simply a dumb subterfuge to avoid admitting ignorance. Why should the parents manage to detect so rapidly what hundreds of others-home officers, in particular-never noticed? And why was it invariably true? Every known Superior-more than three hundred-had been discovered without known or visible parents. The national average for abandoned children-she had checked-was barely thirty percent. It didn't make sense. And she intended to find out why. She intended to find her father and ask him.

It was time to go inside. The wind seemed chilly once again. She was starting to shiver. Standing, she took the most direct path to the house and stepped quickly inside.

In the living room, she found Eathen. He was holding a heavy sheet of pink paper in his hands, staring down at it as though confused.

"What is that?" she said.

He looked up in surprise, plainly not having noticed her before. He shook his head desperately. Could he be afraid?

"Give it here," she demanded.

He hesitated, then passed her the sheet.

She read:

THE MESSIAH IS COMING!.

THE WORLD MUST LISTEN TO HIS MESSAGE! AH TRAN!.

The handlettering was crude, childish scrawls. Beneath the words was a photograph, a black-and-gray portrait of an ambiguously smiling face. The eyes were like the endless tunnels one sometimes followed in dreams. Who was this man? What was he? Messiah? Or devil?

Shaken, she crumpled the sheet and let it fall at her feet. "Where did you get this?"

"Inspector Cargill gave it to me."

"To you? Whatever for?"

"He told me-told me I should find out more about this man. That he could help me."

"How?"