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are. That screwy enough for you?"
    "Yeah." Jack said, slowly and emphatically nodding his head, the women silently watching us. "That's exactly screwy enough for me. I only wanted it confirmed."
    "Becky" - I turned to look at her - "what do you think?" She shook her head, frowning, then sighed." I'm - stunned. But I think I would like that drink, after all."
    We all smiled then, and Jack started to get up, but Theodora said, "I'll get them," and stood. "One for everyone?" she asked, and we all said yes.
    Then we sat waiting, getting out cigarettes, striking matches, holding lights, till Theodora came back and handed drinks around. We each took a sip, then Jack said, "That's exactly what I think, and so does Theodora. And the thing is, I didn't tell her anything about my impressions. I let her look at that thing, and form her own opinion, just like I did with you, Miles. And she's the one who first made the comparison with the medallions; we saw them making medallions once, on our honeymoon in Washington." Jack sighed, and shook his head. "We've talked and thought about this all day, Miles; then decided to call you."
    "You tell anyone else?"
    "No."
    "Why didn't you call the police?"
    "I don't know." Jack looked at me, a little smile around his mouth. "You want to call them?"
    "No."
    "Why not?"
    Then I smiled, too. "I don't know. But I don't."
    "Yeah." Jack nodded in agreement, then we all sat there for several moments, sipping our drinks. Jack rattled the ice idly in his glass and, staring down at it, said slowly, "I have a feeling that this is a time to do something more than call the police. That this isn't a time to pass the buck, and let someone else do the worrying. What exactly could the police do? This isn't just a body, and we know it. It's" - he shrugged, his face sombre - "something terrible. Something… I don't know what." He looked up from his glass, glancing around at us all. "I only know, and somehow I'm certain of this, that we mustn't make a mistake here. That there is some one thing - the wise thing, the single correct thing, the one and only thing to do - and if we fail to do it, if we guess wrong, something terrible is going to happen."
    I said, "Do what, for instance?"
    "I don't know." Jack turned away to stare out the window for a moment. Then he looked back at us, and smiled a little. "I have a terrible urge to… call the President at the White House direct, or the head of the Army, the FBI, the Marines, or the Cavalry, or something." He shook his head in wry, smiling amusement at himself, then the smile faded. "Miles, what I mean is, I want somebody - exactly the right person, whoever he is - to realize from the very start how important this is. And I want him, or them, to do whatever should be done, without a mistake. And the thing is that whoever I got in touch with, if he'd even listen to or believe me, might be exactly the wrong person, somebody who'd do exactly the worst thing possible. Whatever that might be. But I do know this isn't something for the local police. This is-" He shrugged, realizing he was repeating himself, and stopped talking.
    "I know," I said. "I have the same feeling, the feeling that the world better hope we handle this right." In medicine sometimes, on a puzzling case, an answer or a clue will pop up out of nowhere; the subconscious mind at work, I suppose. I said, "Jack, how tall are you?"
    "Five-ten."
    "Exactly?"
    "Yeah. Why?"
    "How tall would you say the body downstairs is?"
    He looked at me for a moment, then said, "Five-ten."
    "And what do you weigh?"
    "One forty." He nodded. "Yeah, just about what that body downstairs weighs. You've hit it; it's my size and build. Doesn't especially look like me, though."
    "Or anyone e1se.You got an ink pad in the house?"
    He turned to his wife. "Have we?"
    "A what?"
    "An ink pad. The kind you use for rubber stamps."
    "Yes." Theodora got up and crossed the room to a desk. "There's one in here somewhere." She found and brought out an ink