"You'll become a prime suspect," Barth said. "But it's your right; you can refuse. I'd advise you not to, because if you do they'll never stop hounding you. They'll scan you sooner or later anyhow."

Pete said, "I have an aversion to having my mind read." Once they discovered his amnesia, he realized, they would be certain he had killed Luckman. And perhaps he had. The obvious was confronting him brutally.

"What's your decision?" Hawthorne asked him.

"You've probably begun to scan me already," Pete said. Barth of course was right; if he refused they would scan him anyhow, if not now, then some other time. "Go ahead," he said, and felt sick and weary. He walked over to the two of them and stood with his hands in his pockets.

Time passed. No one spoke.

"I've picked up the matter which Mrs. Garden was thinking about," the vug thought-radiated to its companion. "Have you?"

"Yes," Hawthorne said, nodding. To Pete he said, "You have no actual memory of today, do you? You've reconstructed it from remarks made by your auto-auto or at least by alleged remarks."

"You can question the Rushmore of my car," Pete said.

"It informed you," Hawthorne said slowly, "that you paid a visit to Berkeley, today. But you don't actually know if it was to see Luckman, and if so, whether you did see him or

not. I can't imagine why this block in your mind exists; was it self-imposed? And if so, how?"

"I can't tell you the answer to that," Pete said. "As you can certainly read for yourself."

Hawthorne said drily, "Anyone intending to commit a capital crime would of course know that telepaths would be brought in; he would have to deal with that, and nothing could possibly benefit him more than a segment of amnesia entering to block out that period of his activities." To E. B. Black he said, "I would presume we should take Mr. Garden into custody."

The vug answered, "Perhaps. But we must examine the others, as a matter of course." To the group it declared, "You are ordered to disband as a Game-playing organization; from this moment on it is illegal for any of you to come together for the purpose of playing Bluff. This ruling will hold until the murderer of Jerome Luckman has been found."

They turned, instinctively, to the vidscreen.

Barth said, "It's legal. As I warned you." He seemed resigned.

"Speaking for the group," Bill Calumine said to the two police, "I protest this."

Hawthorne shrugged. He did not seem particularly worried by Calumine's protest.

"I have picked up something unusual," the vug said to its companion. "Please scan the rest of the group as a whole and see if you agree."

Glancing at him, Hawthorne nodded; he walked slowly about the room, from person to person, and then back to the vug. "Yes," he said. "Mr. Garden is not the only person here unable to recall what he did today. In all, six persons in this group show similar lapses of memory. Mrs.' Remington, Mr. Gaines, Mr. Angst, Mrs. Angst, Mrs. Calumine, and Mrs. Garden. None of them have intact memories."

Astonished, Pete Garden looked around the room, and saw by the expressions on the faces of the other five that it was true. They were in the same situation that he was. And probably, like himself, each of them had believed his situation unique. So none of them had discussed it.

"I can see," Hawthorne said, "that we're going to have

difficulty establishing the identity of the murderer of Mr. Luckman, in view of this. However, I'm sure it can be done; it merely will take longer." He glared at the group with displeasure.

In the kitchen of the con-apt, Janice Remington and Freya Gaines fixed coffee. The others remained in the living room with the team of detectives.

"How was Luckman killed?" Pete asked Hawthorne.

"By a heat-needle, evidently. We're having an autopsy performed, of course; we'll have certain knowledge then."

"What the hell is a 'heat-needle'?" Jack Blau asked.

Hawthorne said, "A side-arm left over from the war; they were all called in, but a large number of servicemen kept theirs and we find them being used every now and then. It employs a laser beam and is accurate from quite a distance, assuming there is no intervening structure."

Coffee was brought; Hawthorne accepted a cup and seated himself. His companion, the vug E. B. Black, declined.

On the vidscreen, the miniature image of their attorney Bert Barth said, "Mr. Hawthorne, whom do you intend to hold? All six persons with defective memories? I'd like to know now because I'm going to have to ring off this line, soon; I have other commitments."

"It seems probable we'll hold the six and release the others. Do you find that objectionable, Mr. Barth?" Hawthorne seemed amused.

Mrs. Angst broke in, "They're not going to hold me, not without a charge."

"They can hold you—anybody—seventy-two hours at least," Barth said. "For observation. There are several blanket charges they can bring in. So don't fight that, Mrs. Angst; after all, a man has been killed. This is a serious matter."

"Thanks for the help," Bill Calumine said to Barth, a little bit ironically, it seemed to Pete. "I'd like to ask you one more thing; can you begin work getting the stricture on our meeting for Game-playing removed?"

"I'll see what I can do," Barth said. "Give me some time. There was a case last year in Chicago. A group there was dissolved under the same statute for several weeks and

naturally they took it to court. As I recall the group won its case; anyhow I'll look into it." Barth rang off.

"We're lucky," Jean Blau said, "that we've got legal representation." She looked frightened; going over to her husband she stood close by him.

Silvanus Angst said, "I still say we're better off; Luckman would have wiped us out." He grinned at the two police. "Maybe I did it. Like you say, I don't remember. Frankly, if I did it I'm glad." He did not appear to have any fear of the police. Pete envied him.

"Mr. Garden," Hawthorne said, "I catch a very interesting thought from you. Early this morning you were warned by someone—I can't catch by whom—that you were about to commit an act of violence having to do with Luckman. Am I correct?" Rising, he walked over to Pete. "Would you mind thinking as clearly as possible about this?" His tone was informal.

Pete said, "This is a violation of my rights." He wished that the attorney were still on the vidphone; as soon as Barth had rung off the attitude of the police had stiffened. The group was now at their mercy.

"Not precisely," Hawthorne said. "We're governed by many regulations; our pairing off bi-racially is to protect the rights of those we investigate. Actually we're hampered by such an arrangement."

Bill Calumine said, "Did both of you agree on shutting down our group? Or was that its idea?" He jerked his head in the direction of E. B. Black.

"I fully concur in the action of banning Pretty Blue Fox," Hawthorne said. "Despite what your inborn prejudices may - tell you."

Pete said, "You're wasting your time baiting him for his association with the vugs." It was obvious that Hawthorne was used to it by now. He probably encountered it everywhere the two detectives went.

Coming over beside Pete, Joe Schilling said softly, "I'm just not satisfied with the attitude of that Bert Barth. He's giving in too easily; a good aggressive lawyer would stand up for us more."

"Perhaps so," Pete said. It had seemed that way to him, too.

"I have my own attorney back in New Mexico; his name is Laird Sharp. I've known him professionally and socially a long time; I'm familiar with his way of operating and it's in great contrast to Barth's. And since they're evidently going to book you I'd like to see you get him instead of this attorney of Calumine's. I know he could get you right out."

"The problem," Pete said, "is that military law still prevails in many situations." The Concordat between Terrans and Titanians had been a military one. He felt pessimistic. "If the police want to take us in they probably can," he said to Schilling. Something was terribly wrong. Something with enormous power was in operation; it had acted against six members of the group already, and who knew what its limits were? If it could deplete them of their recent memories—