“Except yourself?”

“Except myself. Just as there was no one in the house except myself when my husband was killed.”

Fastolfe interposed gently. “There is a difference, Gladia. Your husband was killed with a blunt instrument. The physical presence of the murderer was necessary and, if you were the only one present, that was serious. In this case, Jander was put out of operation by a subtle spoken program. Physical presence was not necessary. Your presence here alone means nothing, especially since you do not know how to block the mind of a humaniform robot.”

They both turned to look at Baley, Fastolfe with a quizzical look on his face, Gladia with a sad one. (It irritated Baley that Fastolfe, whose future was as bleak as Baley’s own, nevertheless seemed to face it with humor. What on Earth is there to the situation to cause one to laugh like an idiot? Baley thought morosely.)

“Ignorance,” said Baley slowly, “may mean nothing. A person may not know how to get to a certain place and yet may just happen to reach it while walking blindly. One might talk to Jander and, all unknowingly, push the button for mental freeze-out.”

Fastolfe said, “And the chances of that?”

“You’re the expert, Dr. Fastolfe, and I suppose you will tell me they are very small.”

“Incredibly small. A person may not know how to get to a certain place, but if the only route is a series of tight ropes stretched in sharply changing directions, what are the chances of reaching it by walking randomly while blindfolded?”

Gladia’s hands fluttered in extreme agitation. She clenched her fists, as though to hold them steady, and brought them down on her knees. “I didn’t do it, accident or not. I wasn’t with him when it happened. I wasn’t. I spoke to him in the morning. He was well, perfectly normal. Hours later, when I summoned him, he never came. I went in search of him and he was standing in his accustomed place, seeming quite normal. The trouble was, he didn’t respond to me. He didn’t respond at all. He has never responded since.”

Baley said, “Could something you had said to him, quite in passing, have produced mind-freeze only after you had left him—an hour after, perhaps?”

Fastolfe interposed sharply, “Quite impossible, Mr. Baley. If mind-freeze is to take place, it takes place at once. Please do not badger Gladia in this fashion. She is incapable of producing mind-freeze deliberately and it is unthinkable that she would produce it accidentally.”

“Isn’t it unthinkable thatit would be produced by random positronic drift, as you say it must have?”

“Not quite as unthinkable.”

“Both alternatives are extremely unlikely. What is the difference in unthinkability?”

“A great one. I imagine that a mental freeze-out, through positronic drift might have a probability of 1 in 1012; that by accidental pattern-building 1 in 1000. That is just an estimate, but a reasonable one. The difference is greater than that between a single electron and the entire Universe—and it is in favor of the positronic drift.”

There was silence for a while.

Baley said, “Dr. Fastolfe, you said earlier that you couldn’t stay long.”

“I have stayed too long already.”

“Good. Then would you leave now?”

Fastolfe began to rise, then said, “Why?”

“Because I want to speak to Gladia alone.”

“To badger her?”

“I must question her without your interference. Our situation is entirely too serious to worry about politeness.”

Gladia said, “I am not afraid of Mr. Baley, dear Doctor.” She added wistfully, “My robots will protect me if his impoliteness becomes extreme.”

Fastolfe smiled and said, “Very well, Gladia.” He rose and held out his hand to her. She took it briefly.

He said, “I would like to have Giskard remain here for general protection—and Daneel will continue to be in the next room, if you don’t mind. Could you lend me one of your own robots to escort me back to my establishment?”

“Certainly,” said Gladia, raising her arms. “You know Pandion, I believe.”

“Of course! A sturdy and reliable escort.” He left, with the robot following closely.

Baley waited, watching Gladia, studying her. She sat there, her eyes on her hands, which were folded limply together in her lap.

Baley was certain there was more for her to tell. How he could persuade her to talk, he couldn’t say, but of one thing more he was certain. While Fastolfe was there, she would not tell the whole truth.

Finally, Gladia looked up, her face like a little girls. She said in a small voice, “How are you, Elijah? How do you feel?”

“Well enough, Gladia.”

She said, “Dr. Fastolfe said he would lead you here across the open and see to it that you would have to wait some time in the worst of it.”

“Oh? Why was that? For the fun of it?”

“No, Elijah. I had told him how, you reacted to the open. You—remember the time you fainted and fell into the pond?”

Elijah shook his head quickly. He could not deny the event or his memory thereof, but neither did he approve of the reference. He said gruffly, “I’m not quite like that anymore. I’ve improved.”

“But Dr. Fastolfe said he would test you. Was it all right?”

“It was sufficiently all right. I didn’t faint.” He remembered the episode aboard the spaceship during the approach to Aurora and ground his teeth faintly. That was different and there was no call to discuss the matter.

He said, in a deliberate change of subject, “What do I call you here? How do I address you?”

“You’ve been calling me Gladia.”

“It’s inappropriate, perhaps. I could say Mrs. Delmarre, but you may have—”

She gasped and interrupted sharply, “I haven’t used that name since arriving here. Please don’t you use it.”

“What do the Aurorans call you, then?”

“They say Gladia Solaria, but that’s just an indication that I’m an alien and I don’t want that either. I am simply Gladia. One name. It’s not an Auroran name and I doubt that there’s another one on this planet, so it’s sufficient. I’ll continue to call you Elijah, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

Gladia said, “I would like to serve tea.” It was a statement and Baley nodded.

He said, “I didn’t know that Spacers drank tea.”

“It’s not Earth tea. It’s a plant extract that is pleasant but is not considered harmful in any way. We call it tea.”

She lifted her arm and Baley noted that the sleeve held tightly at the wrist and that joining it were thin, flesh-colored gloves. She was still exposing the minimum of body surface in his presence. She was still minimizing the chance of infection.

Her arm remained in the air for a moment and, after a few more moments, a robot appeared with a tray. He was patently even more primitive than Giskard, but he distributed the teacups, the small sandwiches, and the bite-sized bits of pastry, smoothly. He poured tea with what amounted to grace.

Baley said curiously, “How do you do that, Gladia?”

“Do what, Elijah?”

“You lift your arm whenever you want something and the robots always know what it is. How did this one know you wanted tea served?”

“It’s not difficult. Every time I lift my arm, it distorts a small electromagnetic field that is maintained continuously across the room. Slightly different positions of my hand and fingers produce different distortions and my robots can interpret these distortions as orders. I only use it for simple orders: Come here! Bring tea! And so on.”

“I haven’t noticed Dr. Fastolfe using the system at his establishment.”

“It’s not really Auroran. It’s our system in Solaria and I’m used to it.—Besides, I always have tea at this time. Borgraf expects it.”

“This is Borgraf?” Baley eyed the robot with some interest, aware that he had only glanced at him before. Familiarity was quickly breeding indifference. Another day and he would not notice robots at all. They would flutter about him unseen and chores would appear to do themselves.