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insisted. “He's not an ordinary cat, any more than we are ordinary people.”
    If she hadn't reminded him how different they were, he would have argued further. But the sudden thought of their many differences held him silent. It was a little frightening to realize their strangeness, and to know that it was probably the cause of all their troubles.
    On upper Water Street, before the clicking taxi meter had devoured more than half the five dollars in Tony's pocket, they got out and caught a southbound bus. No one would have suspected Winkie was with them. During the long ride he lay curled in Tia's bag, apparently asleep.
    It was well after midnight when they left the bus and hurried across the street to their destination.
    St. Paul's Mission was in an old store building near the docks, with a reeking beer parlor on one side, and a pawnshop on the other. It was an unpleasant neighborhood to be caught in at this hour, and Tony was a little jolted to discover that the curtained windows of the mission were dark. He tried the door, and found it locked.
    Tia whispered suddenly, “There's a police car coming. If they see us standing here, they—they're sure to stop and ask us questions.”
    Tony jerked about, his lips compressed. It was a prowl car, all right, and it was moving slowly toward them.

MISSION
    T here was only one thing to do, and Tia did it on the instant. She grasped the doorknob and turned it with a determined jerk. There was an audible click as the bolt shot back, and the door swung open. She darted inside. Tony followed quickly, then eased the door shut and locked it.
    Carefully, through the edge of the glass panel, he watched the prowl car approach close. It stopped directly in front of them. Tony chilled. Had they been seen entering the mission?
    For a moment, hiding there behind the door, he had the curious feeling of being caught on a strange planet, where nothing made sense, and everything was a little insane. It was a feeling he had often had before, but never so strongly as now, when the next minute might mean their discovery and possible capture. All at once he realized how much he hated the city; he hated it more than anything on earth, but had never been able to admit it before.
    Slowly, the prowl car moved on. Tony expelled a long breath, and turned to study the place they were in.
    In the dim light that came through the windows he made out rows of old wooden chairs facing a small rostrum. The room was hot and airless, and smelled of the dirty clothing of the derelicts who wandered in here every night.
    A faint hum caught his attention. It was an electric fan. With Tia following, he moved through the gloom to the side of the rostrum,and stopped before a door in the back wall. From under the door came a faint gleam of light.
    “Father O'Day!” Tony called. “Are you there?”
    There was a grunt, then the scrape of a chair across the floor. Abruptly lights flooded the mission, and the door in front of them was opened.
    A big, powerfully built man, collarless and in his shirt sleeves, stood peering down at them in surprise. He was youngish, broad of shoulder, rugged and battered of feature, and wore his wiry black hair in a crew cut—all of which made him look much more like a professional athlete than a priest.
    “Is this a visit or a visitation?” he rumbled in a deep bass voice. “In other words, was the street door left unlocked—or did you just materialize from nowhere?”
    “The—the door was locked,” Tony admitted hesitantly. “But it opened for Tia. I'm sorry to have to bother you so late, Father. Only, we ran away from Hackett House, and we need your help.”
    The big man blinked at them. “You ran away from Hackett House—and Tia opened the door. Just like that.” Suddenly he smiled. “Of course I'll help you! Tell me, can Tia always open locked doors?”
    “She doesn't exactly open them, sir. They seem to open for her. If it's right, I mean.”
    Bushy eyebrows went up.