Instantly she whipped upright on the dais in a listening attitude, and he probed delicately ... Sensation of bedclothes ... Voice calling dimly ... Whose voice, Barbara? Deep in the preconscious she answered: "Who is that?" A friend, Barbara . "There’s no one. No one. I’m alone." And she was alone, racing down a cor- ridor to thrust a door open and burst into an orchid room to see— "What, Barbara?" "A man. Two men." Who? "Go away. Please go away. I don’t like voices. There’s a voice screaming. Screaming in my ears ..." And she was screaming while instincts of terror made her dodge from a dim figure that clutched at her to keep her from her father. She turned and circled ... What is your father doing, Barbara? "He—No. You don’t belong here. There’s only the three of us. Father and me and—" And the dim figure caught her. A flash of his face. No more. Look again, Barbara. Sleek head. Wide eyes. Small chiselled nose. Small sensitive mouth. Like a scar. Is that the man? Look at the picture. Is that the man? "Yes. Yes. Yes." And then all was gone.