In his halting Korean, Remo said, "Chiun, I would have gotten the same money. All you did was get us another job, finding out who hit Pruiss."

"I got us the hotel rooms paid for," Chiun said. His voice raised as he became excited.

"The rooms only cost us six dollars, for Chrissakes," Remo said. "You gave away an extra job for six dollars. No wonder Sinanju's a poor village."

"You speak terrible Korean," Chiun said. "I can't understand a word you say."

"I said I would have gotten the same money."

"You wouldn't have," Chiun insisted. "Negotiating is one of the special skills of Masters of Sinanju."

"Would," said Remo in English.

"Wouldn't," said Chiun.

Theodosia stood up.

"Why not come with me now?" she said.

Remo started off the bed.

"Not so fast," Chiun said.

"What now?" asked Remo.

"The hotel room keys," he said. "Give them to her." He pointed to Theodosia as if he expected her to run out of the room. She smiled at Remo who shrugged.

"Anything you say, Chiun. Anything you say," said Remo wearily.

Wesley Pruiss was drinking beer from a can when they arrived back at the country club. Theodosia sent the three bodyguards outside, then snatched the can of Rheingold Extra Light away from Pruiss.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," she said. "No drinking. You know that."

"What difference does it make?"

He saw Remo and Chiun standing at the foot of his bed. He had not heard them enter the room.

"Who are these guys?"

"Your new bodyguards."

Pruiss looked at them carefully, his face seemingly undecided between a scowl and a sneer. "Bodyguards. They look just about right to guard half a man."

"You were a half a man before you got hurt, Pruiss," Remo said.

"Is that how you talk to all your employers? What are we paying these guys?" he asked Theodosia.

"Remo, leave this to me," hissed Chiun. "Not nearly as much as we usually charge for such services," he told Pruiss quickly. "But we came along just for the pleasure of protecting such an enlightened person as you." He smiled and folded his hands inside the sleeves of his flowing green evening robe.

"You did, huh?" Pruiss's voice was still wary but his face showed satisfaction at the ego-stroking.

"Yes," said Chiun. "Would you like to hear my poetry?"

"No," said Pruiss.

"Some other time," Chiun said agreeably.

"I doubt it," Pruiss said.

"Don't doubt it," Remo said. "You're going to hear so much Ung poetry that you're going to be able to recite it, Pruiss. You'll learn it by heart. In Korean. You'll be able to give us three hours on a flower opening and two more hours on a bee landing on the flower. You'll be the life of the orgy."

"Don't give away the story," Chiun told Remo.

"Get these two out of here," Pruiss told Theodosia.

"Suits me," Remo said. "The only reason we'd even take this job is so you can go ahead and do your thing with solar energy. Sure as hell not because we like you."

Pruiss waved his hand, dismissing solar energy.

Remo waved his hand back.

"The hell with solar energy," Pruiss said. "I don't care if everybody freezes to death."

Theodosia stood alongside Pruiss, looking at Remo and Chiun. She said blandly, "I don't think Wesley really feels that way. It's just the strain of everything."

"Strain, my butt. That's the way I really feel," Pruiss said.

"Swell," said Remo. "Come on, Chiun, let's go."

After they had passed the guards in the hallway, Chiun asked Remo: "Why did you say that?"

"She pulls the strings," Remo said. "Let her work on him. It's better than us arguing with him."

They walked down the broad curved staircase of the old country club and out the front door into the pleasant spring night of Indiana.

At the end of the long driveway was a small street. Across the street stood the reconstructed tenement building.

"That is where it happened?" Chiun asked.

"Yes."

"I would see it."

The moonlight streamed in through the kitchen window and illuminated the kerosene lamp on the table. Remo went to light it with a match, while Chiun went unerringly toward the other end of the railroad apartment. When Remo had the light on, he turned to see Chiun crouched down, feeling the floor.

"This is where the assassin stood," Chiun said.

"How can you tell that?"

"Because he was here waiting for Pruiss. This is the only spot in this room where the floorboards do not creak. He could have stood here in perfect silence to wait his moment."

Remo nodded.

"A knife thrown from the blackness of night," Chiun said softly, more to himself than to Remo. "This is not good."

"Why?" Remo asked.

Chiun seemed to ignore the question as he rose and stared at the floor. "The man stood here," he said, "and waited for the big-mouthed one to enter the room. Then, across a distance of twenty feet, he threw a knife that almost took the life from Pruiss. But not quite. Now, he was alone with his victim. Did he then go to him to finish his task? No."

"Maybe something scared him off," Remo said.

"No," said Chiun.

"Why not?"

"He had time to go to his victim and remove the knife. All he had to do was to twist it and his victim would be dead and his mission accomplished. But he did not do that. He just removed the knife and fled. Why?"

Remo shrugged.

"Really, Remo. Sometimes you are very dense."

"I'm glad now it's only sometimes. Usually you tell me I'm always very dense."

"Have it your own way," Chiun said. "Remo, you are always very dense and never more so than now."

"All right. You tell me."

"Yes," said Chiun. "I do not think he meant to kill Wesley Pruiss, because otherwise he would have. And I think he had a reason for taking his knife."

"Not to leave fingerprints behind," Remo said.

"He could have just wiped the handle," said Chiun. "He took the knife so we would not see it. Why?"

"Who cares?"

"You should. He took it because it probably identifies him."

"Probably had one of those little tags printed on the handle: 'If found, drop in nearest mailbox. Norman Knifethrower will guarantee postage.'"

Chiun ignored him. He stood up straight and took a pose, left foot in front of his right, almost as if he were fencing an imaginary opponent. He rocked back and forth, transferring his weight from foot to foot. There was only silence in the flat as Remo watched.

"Remo," Chiun said. "Stand here."

He stepped aside as Remo walked over and stood.

"Now, rock from side to side."

Remo did as ordered. The floorboards squeaked beneath his feet.

Chiun sighed. "I have seen enough," he said. "It is time for us to leave."

"So who killed cock robin?" Remo asked.

"I will explain it all to you when you are capable of absorbing what I tell you. But let me warn you. We are facing a very dangerous man, very formidable. His skill is not greatly different from ours."

"You can tell all that by listening to the floor boards not squeak?"

"Everything hands over its secrets to one who demands them," Chiun said. "I can tell you something more too," he added as he started for the kitchen door. Remo blew out the kerosene lamp and followed him.

"Yeah? What's that?" Remo asked.

"The assassin will wear a thick black leather belt. The back of the belt will be filled with knives, knives with red leather handles. And near the bloodguard of each knife will be imprinted the outline of a rearing stallion."

And then he was walking down the stairs, shaking his head slowly from side to side. But when Remo caught up to him, Chiun would say no more. He said he wished to think.

There were two calls at the motel that night for Remo.