Good. That is just what I was going to ask you.

How do you feel?

All right. Fine, actually.

You have had no symptoms at all. Correct?

That's right.

Fine. If you were to, you know where to go. Right?

Indeed.

Okay, then. I'll be going now.

So long.

He headed off toward a tiny hopper he had landed near the main lab. I continued on over to Frank's place.

Frank came out to meet me.

What did the doctor have to say? he asked.

That everything looks all right, I told him.

Uh-huh. Come on in and tell me what you're drinking.

He opened the door, held it.

A bourbon would be nice, I said.

With anything?

Just ice.

Okay. Linda's out back, setting things on the table.

He moved about, putting together a pair of drinks. I wondered whether he was going to say anything about the diamond business now, while we were alone. But he didn't.

He turned, passed me my drink, raised his in a brief salute, took a sip, Tell me all about it, he said.

All right

The telling lasted into dinner and out of it. again. I was very hungry, Linda was quite quiet, and Frank kept asking questions, drawing out every detail of Paul's discomfort, distress. I wondered about Linda and Frank. I could not see her keeping her affair secret on a small place like the station. What did Frank really know, think, feel about it? What was the true function of their triangle in this bizarre case?

I sat with them for a while after dinner, and I could almost feel the tension between the two of them, a thing he seemed set on dealing with by keeping the conversation moving steadily along the lines he had established, she by withdrawing from it. I had no doubt that it had been precipitated by Paul's mishap, but I came to feel more and more awkward in my role as a buffer against an approaching quarrel, a confrontation, or the renewal of an old one. Thanking them for the meal, I excused myself as soon as I could, pleading a weariness that was half real.

Frank got to his feet immediately.

I'll walk you back, he said.

All right.

So he did.

As we neared my place, he finally said it.

About those stones ...

Yes?

You're sure there are lots more where they came from?

Come this way, I said, leading him around me cottage to the patio and turning when we reached it. Just in time for me last couple of minutes of sunset. Beautiful. Why don't you watch it finish up? I'll be right back.

I let myself in through the rear door, moved to the sink, and got the disposal unit open. It took me a minute or so to work the bag out. I opened it, seized a double fistful, and carried them back outside.

Cup your hands, I said to him.

He did, and I filled them.

How's that?

He raised them, moved nearer the light spilling through the open door.

My God! he said. You really do!

Of course.

All right. I'll dispose of them for you. Thirty-five percent.

Twenty-five is tops. Like I said.

I know of a gem-and-mineral show a week from Saturday. A man I know could be there if I gave him a call. He'd pay a good price. I'll call him, for thirty percent.

Twenty-five.

It's a pity we are so close and can't quite come to terms. We both lose that way.

Oh, all right. Thirty it is.

I took back the stones and dumped them into my pockets, and we shook on it. Then Frank turned.

I'm going over to the lab now, he said. See what's the matter with that unit you brought back.

Let me know when you find out, will you? I'd like to know.

Sure.

He went away and I restashed the gems, fetched a dolphin book, and began to page through it. Then it struck me just how funny it was, the way things were working out. All the talk about dolphins, all my reading, speculating, including a long philosophical dissertation on their hypothetical dreamsongs as a religio-diagogical form of Indus, for what? To find that it was probably all unnecessary? To realize that I would probably get through the entire case without even seeing a dolphin?

Well, that was what I had wanted, of course, what Don and Lydia Bames and the Institute wanted, for me to clear the good name of the dolphin. Still, what a tangled mess it was turning out to be! Blackmail, murder, diamond smuggling, with a little adultery tossed in on the side ... How was I going to untangle it sweetly and neatly, clear the suspects, who were out practicing their ludus and not giving a damn about the whole business, and then fade from the picture, as is my wont, without raising embarrassing questions, without seeming to have been especially involved?

A feeling of profound jealousy of the dolphin came over me and did not entirely vanish. Did they ever create problem situations of this order among themselves? I strongly doubted it. Maybe if I collected enough green karma stamps I could put in for dolphin next time around ...

Everything caught up with me, and I dozed off with the light still burning.

A sharp, insistent drumming awakened me.

I rubbed my eyes, stretched. The noise came again, and I turned in that direction.

It was the window. Someone was rapping on the frame. I rose and crossed over, saw that it was Frank.

Yeah? I said. What's up?

Come on out, he said. It's important.

Okay. Just a minute.

I went and rinsed my face, to complete the waking-up process and give me a chance to think. A glance at my watch showed me that it was around ten-thirty.

When I finally stepped outside, he seized my shoulder.

Come on! Damn it! I told you it was important!

I fell into step with him.

All right! I had to wake up. What's the matter?

Paul's dead, he said.

What?

You heard me. Dead.

How'd it happen?

He stopped breathing.

They usually do ... But how did it happen?

I'd gotten to fooling with the unit you'd brought back. It's over there now. I moved it in when my time came to relieve Bartheime, so that I could keep working on it. Anyway, I got so involved that I wasn't paying much attention to him. When I finally did check on him again, he was dead. That's all. His face was dark and twisted. Some sort of lung failure, it seems. Maybe there was an air embolism ...

We entered the rear of the building, the nearest entrance, the water splashing softly behind us, a light breeze following us in. We passed the recently set-up workbench, tools and the partly dismantled sonic unit spread across its surface. Rounding the comer to our left, we entered the room where Paul lay. I switched the light on.

His face was no longer handsome, bearing now the signs of one who had spent his final moments fighting for breath. I crossed to him, felt for a pulse, knew in advance I would find none. I covered a fingernail with my thumb and squeezed. It remained white when I released it.

How long ago? I asked.

Right before I came for you.

Why me?

You were nearest.

I see., Was the sheet torn in this place before, I wonder?

I don't know.

There were no cries, no sounds at all?

I didn't hear anything. If I had, I would have come right away.

I felt a sudden desire for a cigarette, but there were oxygen tanks in the room and NO SMOKING signs all over the building. I turned and retraced my steps, pushed the door open, held it with my back, leaning against it, lit a cigarette, and stared out across the water.

Very neat, I said then. With the day's symptoms behind him, he'll warrant a 'natural causes' with a 'possible air embolism,' 'congestive lung failure,' or some damn thing behind it.

What do you mean? Frank demanded.

Was he sedated?, I don't know. It doesn't matter. I'd imagine you used the recompressor. Right? Or did you tough it out and just smother him?

Come off it. Why would I ...