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Dueling on a high wire.
    The evening passed pleasantly.
    Frelaine escorted the girl home, the palms of his hands sticky with sweat. He had never found a woman he liked better. And yet she was his legitimate kill.
    He didn’t know what he was going to do.
    She invited him in and they sat together on the couch. The girl lighted a cigarette for herself with a large lighter, then settled back.
    â€œAre you leaving soon?” she asked him.
    â€œI suppose so,” Frelaine said. “The convention is only lasting another day.”
    She was silent for a moment. “I’ll be sorry to see you go.”
    They were quiet for a while. Then Janet went to fix him a drink. Frelaine eyed her retreating back. Now was the time. He placed his hand near the button.
    But the moment had passed for him, irrevocably. He wasn’t going to kill her. You don’t kill the girl you love.
    The realization that he loved her was shocking. He’d come to kill, not to find a wife.
    She came back with the drink and sat down opposite him, staring at emptiness.
    â€œJanet,” he said. “I love you.”
    She sat, just looking at him. There were tears in her eyes.
    â€œYou can’t,” she protested. “I’m a Victim. I won’t live long enough to—”
    â€œYou won’t be killed. I’m your Hunter.”
    She stared at him a moment, then laughed uncertainly.
    â€œAre you going to kill me?” she asked.
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I’m going to marry you.”
    Suddenly she was in his arms.
    â€œOh, Lord!” she gasped. “The waiting—I’ve been so frightened—”
    â€œIt’s all over,” he told her. “Think what a story it’ll make for our kids. How I came to murder you and left marrying you.”
    She kissed him, then sat back and lighted another cigarette.
    â€œLet’s start packing,” Frelaine said. “I want—”
    â€œWait,” Janet interrupted. “You haven’t asked if I love you .”
    â€œWhat?”
    She was still smiling, and the cigarette lighter was pointed at him. In the bottom of it was a black hole. A hole just large enough for a .38 caliber bullet.
    â€œDon’t kid around,” he objected, getting to his feet.
    â€œI’m not being funny, darling,” she said.
    In a fraction of a second, Frelaine had time to wonder how he could ever have thought she was not much over twenty. Looking at her now— really looking at her—he knew she couldn’t be much less than thirty. Every minute of her strained, tense existence showed on her face.
    â€œI don’t love you, Stanton,” she said very softly, the cigarette lighter poised.
    Frelaine struggled for breath. One part of him was able to realize detachedly what a marvelous actress she really was. She must have known all along.
    Frelaine pushed the button, and the gun was in his hand, cocked and ready.
    The blow that struck him in the chest knocked him over a coffee table. The gun fell out of his hand. Gasping, half-conscious, he watched her take careful aim for the coup de grace .
    â€œNow I can join the Tens,” he heard her say elatedly as she squeezed the trigger.

SHAPE
    P ID THE pilot slowed the ship almost to a standstill. He peered anxiously at the green planet below.
    Even without instruments, there was no mistaking it. Third from its sun, it was the only planet in this system capable of sustaining life. Peacefully it swam through its gauze of clouds.
    It looked very innocent. And yet, something on this expedition had claimed the lives of every expedition the Glom had sent.
    Pid hesitated a moment, before starting irrevocably down. He and his two crewmen were as ready now as they would ever be. Their compact Displacers were stored in body pouches, inactive but ready.
    Pid wanted to say something to his crew, but wasn’t sure how to put it.
    The crew waited. Ilg the Radioman had