The head of security, a man already advanced in years who had clearly come from the organs of state security, looked at me reproachfully.

"What were you thinking of, Mr. Gorodetsky…" he said, twirling my pass to the Assol grounds in his fingers. "Behaving as if you were in a state institution-if you'll pardon the expression…"

I got the impression that what he really wanted to do was snap my pass in two, call the guards, and order them to throw me out of the elite grounds.

I felt like saying I was sorry and I wouldn't do it again. Especially since I really was feeling ashamed.

Only that was the desire of the Light Magician Anton Gorodetsky, not of Mr. A. Gorodetsky, the owner of a small firm trading in milk products.

"What, exactly, is the problem?" I asked. "If it's not possible to do as I asked, they should have said so."

"And what was the money for?" the head of security asked.

"What money?" I asked in surprise. "Ah… your colleague thought I was offering him money?"

The head of security smiled.

"Absolutely not!" I said firmly. "I wanted to get my handkerchief out of my pocket. My allergies are really killing me today. And there was a load of small change in there, so I put it on the desk… but I didn't even get time to blow my nose."

I think I overdid it a bit.

The stony-faced boss held out my pass card and said very politely, "The incident is closed. I'm sure you understand, Mr. Gorodetsky, that private individuals are not permitted to view our security recordings."

I sensed that what had stung the boss most was the phrase about "small change." Of course, he wasn't exactly poor, working in a place like that. But he wasn't so flush that he could call a hundred dollars small change.

I sighed and lowered my head. "Forgive me for being so stupid. I really did try to offer some… remuneration. I've been running from one bureaucrat to another all this week, registering the firm… it was an automatic reflex."

The security boss gave me a searching look. He seemed to have softened just a bit.

"It's my fault," I admitted. "I was just overwhelmed by curiosity. Would you believe I couldn't sleep half the night, I kept trying to guess…"

"I can see you didn't sleep," the boss said, looking at me. And he couldn't resist asking-after all, human curiosity is ineradicable. "What is it you're so interested in?"

"My wife and daughter are at the dacha right now," I said. "I'm knocking myself out, trying to get the work on the apartment finished… and suddenly I get this letter. Anonymous. In a woman's handwriting. And the letter… well, how can I put it… it's half flirting and half promises. A beautiful stranger is dreaming of getting to know you, it says, but she doesn't dare take the first step. If I'm observant enough to realize who the letter's from, then all I have to do is approach her…"

A glint of merriment appeared in the security boss's eyes. "And your wife's at the dacha?" he asked.

"Yes, she is," I said with a nod. "Don't get the wrong idea… I've no ambitious plans. I'd just like to find out who this stranger is."

"Do you have the letter with you?" the boss asked.

"I threw it away immediately," I said. "If my wife ever set eyes on it, I'd never be able to prove that nothing happened…"

"When was it sent?"

"Three days ago. From our post office."

The boss thought for a moment.

"The letters there are collected once a day, in the evening," I said. "I don't think too many people go in there… only about five or six a day. If I could just have a look…"

The boss shook his head and smiled.

"Yes, I understand in principle it's not allowed…" I said sadly. "Can't you at least take a look, eh? Maybe there wasn't a single woman there that day, and it's my neighbor's idea of a joke. He's like that… the jolly type."

"From the tenth floor, you mean?" the boss asked, frowning.

I nodded. "You take a look… just tell me if there was a woman there or not…"

"This letter is compromising for you, isn't it?" the boss said.

"To some extent," I admitted. "As far as my wife is concerned."

"Well, then you have grounds for viewing the recording," the boss decided.

"Thank you very much!" I exclaimed. "Really, thank you!"

"You see how simple everything is?" said the boss, slowly pressing a key on his computer keyboard. "And you go getting the money out… what Soviet sort of way is that to behave… just a moment…"

I couldn't restrain myself. I got up and stood behind his shoulder. The boss didn't object. He was pretty excited- evidently there wasn't much work for him to do in the grounds of Assol.

The image of the post office appeared on the screen, first from one corner-we had an excellent view of what the counter girls were doing. Then from another corner-a view of the entrance and the mail box.

"Monday. Eight in the morning," the boss said triumphantly. "And now what? Are we going to sit and watch the screen for twelve hours?"

"Oh, that's right," I exclaimed, pretending to be disappointed. "I never thought of that."

"We press a key… no, this one here… And now what do we have?"

The image started flickering rapidly.

"What?" I asked, as if I'd never designed the same kind of system for our office.

"Movement search!" the boss declared solemnly.

We had our first taker at nine-thirty in the morning. Some Eastern-looking worker came into the post office and posted a whole bundle of letters.

"Not your female stranger?" the boss quipped sarcastically. And then he explained. "That's the men building the second block. They're always sending letters to Tashkent…"

I nodded.

The second visitor was at a quarter past one. I didn't know him, a very respectable-looking gent. With a bodyguard walking behind him.

The gentleman didn't post any letters. I didn't understand why he went in at all-maybe he was eyeing up the girls, or maybe he was studying the layout of the grounds at Assol.

And the third one was… Las!

"Oh!" the boss exclaimed. "Now that's your neighbour, the jester, isn't it? The one who sings songs at night."

I was obviously a very poor detective…

"That's him…" I whispered. "But would he really…"

"Okay, let's watch a bit more," the security boss said, taking pity on me.

Later on, after a two-hour break, people came piling in.

Another three residents sent off envelopes of some kind. All men, all very serious-looking types.

And one woman. About seventy years old. Just before closing time. Fat, wearing a magnificent dress and huge beads in bad taste. Her sparse gray hair was set in curls.

"Surely it couldn't be her?" the boss said, delighted. He got up and slapped me on the shoulder. "Well, is there any point in looking for your mysterious flirt?"

"It's clear enough," I said. "It's a put-on."

"Never mind, it's nothing more than a harmless joke," the security boss consoled me. "And a request from me to you for the future… never make such ambiguous gestures. Never take money out, if you don't intend to pay someone."

I hung my head.

"We're the ones who corrupt people," the boss said bitterly. "Do you understand? We do it ourselves! Offer someone money once, twice… and the third time he asks you for it. And we complain-what is all this, and where did it come from?… But you're a good man. I can see the light in you."

I gaped at the boss in amazement.

"Yes, you are a good man," said the boss. "I trust my instinct. I saw all sorts in twenty years in the criminal investigation office… Don't do that again, all right? Don't sow evil in the world."

It was a long time since I'd felt so ashamed.

A Light Magician being taught not to do evil.

"I'll try," I said, looking the boss guiltily in the eye. "Thanks very much for your help…"