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preparedness.
    "Interesting. Yes. Fascinating. What's this one?" Reich pulled down the brown
    volume." `Let's Play Party.' What's the date on it? Not Really. You mean to say
    they had parties that long ago?"
    The staff assured him that the ancients were very modern in many astonishing
    ways.
    "Look at the contents," Reich chuckled. "`Honeymoon Bridge'... `Prussian
    Whist'... `Post Office'... `Sardine.' What in the world could that be? Page
    ninety-six. Let's have a look."
    Reich flipped pages until he came to a bold-face heading: HILARIOUS MIXED PARTY
    GAMES. "Look at this," he laughed, pretending surprise. He pointed to the
    well-remembered paragraph.
            SARDINE
        One player is selected to be It. All the lights are extinguished and the It
        hides anywhere in the house. After a few minutes, the players go to find the
        It, hunting separately. The first one who finds him does not reveal the fact
        but hides with him wherever he may be. Successively each player finding the
        Sardines joins them until all are hidden in one place and the last player,
        who is the loser, is left to wander alone in the dark.
    "I'll take it," Reich said. "It's exactly what I need."
    That evening he spent three hours carefully defacing the remains of the volume.
    With heat, acid, stain, and scissors, he mutilated the game instructions; and
    every bum, every cut, every slash was a blow at D'Courtney's writhing body. When
    his proxy murders were finished, he had reduced every game to incomplete
    fragments. Only "Sardine" was left intact.
    Reich wrapped the book, addressed it to Graham, the appraiser, and dropped it
    into the airslot. It went off with a puff and a bang and returned an hour later
    with Graham's official sealed appraisal. Reich's mutilations had not been
    detected.
    He had the book gift-wrapped with the appraisal enclosed (as was the custom) and
    slotted it to Maria Beaumont's house. Twenty minutes later came the reply:
    "Darling! Darling! Darling! I thot you'd forgotten (evidently Maria had written
    the note herself) little ol sexy me. How 2 divine. Come to Beaumont House
    tonite. We're having a party. We'll play games from your sweet gift." There was
    a portrait of Maria centered in the star of a synthetic ruby enclosed in the
    message capsule. A nude portrait, naturally.
    Reich answered: "Devastated. Not tonight. One of my millions is missing."
    She answered: "Wednesday, you clever boy. I'll give you one of mine."
    He replied: "Delighted to accept. Will bring guest. I kiss all of yours." And
    went to bed.
    And screamed at The Man With No Face.
    Wednesday morning, Reich visited Monarch's Science-city ("Paternalism, you
    know.") and spent a stimulating hour with its bright young men. He discussed
    their work and their glowing futures if they would only have faith in Monarch.
    He told the ancient dirty joke about the celibate pioneer who made the emergency
    landing on the hearse in deep space (and the corpse said: "I'm just one of the
    tourists!") and the bright young men laughed subserviently, feeling slightly
    contemptuous of the boss.
    This informality enabled Reich to drift into the Restricted Room and pick up one
    of the visual knockout capsules. They were cubes of copper, half the size of
    fulminating caps, but twice as deadly. When they were broken open, they erupted
    a dazzling blue flare that ionized the Rhodopsin---the visual purple in the
    retina of the eye---blinding the victim and abolishing his perception of time
    and space.
    Wednesday afternoon, Reich went over to Melody Lane in the heart of the
    theatrical district and called on Psych-Songs, Inc. It was run by a clever young
    woman who had written some brilliant jingles for his sales division and some
    devastating strike-breaking songs for Propaganda back when Monarch needed
    everything to smash last year's labor fracas. Her name was Duffy Wyg&. To Reich
    she was the epitome of the modern career girl---the virgin